REPOTTED

My Christmas Cactus has been dropping chunks of itself for the last few weeks. At first, only a single section or two dropped to the ground beneath it. I noticed after a few had collected along with the dust on the wood floors. I swept them up and tossed them in the trash, thinking nothing of the loss. The next week, I glanced at the plant again and was taken aback by almost entire arms of the cactus on the ground. I gathered them again, this time deciding to gingerly place some back in the dirt of the pot to form new life. There was a problem, however. There wasn’t any left I could stick it in as there was no soil to spare.
“Ah,” I mused, “I’ll need to repot this.”
Another week passed. The next time I ventured to look, multiple arms littered the ground. “Heavens!” I exclaimed. “Soon there will be nothing left of my Christmas Cactus!” I explored the spare pots that I have collected precisely for this reason. I pulled out a dark stormy blue ceramic urn that would be the perfect backdrop to stand out against the green. Once outside, I readied the soil in the new pot and tipped over the old one to release my plant.
It didn’t move.
I righted it. “I guess I need to pry it out,” I mused. I wedged my fingers in, feeling roots tear as I went. I wiggled, cajoled, and coaxed that plant to let go of its too-tight home. Finally, my cactus released its grip. When I examined the root ball, I was stunned. I couldn’t even tell if there was any dirt left in the ball. Next, I tried to pry apart the roots so it would grab ahold of the new soil. I had to rip sections apart. It felt so violent, but I knew that unless I continued, the roots would stay bound tightly, not realizing there was space for it to spread its fingers and soak up nutrients. “I’m sorry,” I whispered to my cactus, “It’s for your own good.”
Two days have gone by. Yesterday, there were still some sections of the cactus on the floor. Today, only one. I realize it will take a bit for my plant to feel at home in its new container. I know I personify things, but I imagine my cactus uncurling its toes and wiggling them about, thankful to release the tension of being constrained for too long even if it wasn’t really aware it was so bound. Hopefully in a month or two, I will see the new sprouts of lighter green on the tips of its tendrils showing signs of new growth. It needs some time to recover from the process.

I, too, have been repotted. In the spring, I was experiencing the pain of being torn from my familiar old place. Now in August, I am wiggling my toes, in awe of fresh joy, perspective, and experiences. I am contemplative, thinking of how God is God who makes all things new, often paving a way forward when I too often want to stay comfortable and root-bound. He blows my mind at His wisdom, love, and care. He mentions this characteristic in Isaiah 43:19 in regards to something else, but I find it true here, now, too.
“See, I am doing a new thing!
    Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the wilderness
    and streams in the wasteland.”
Where I was for so long was not a wasteland. It was lovely and good. And yet, God can bring me into new places and spaces so I can continue to grow instead of remaining root-bound. Sometimes it takes a lot of prying to get me to let go. I can hold on with a death grip sometimes. I’ll be honest, it was pretty painful experience for me for awhile. Now, a few months later, my fingers and toes are spreading out and testing the new ground I find myself in.
I wonder how long before signs of new growth will appear.