Are You Potted Or Planted ?

Allow me to be spiri kidogo today. The sermon in church last Sunday was titled, ‘The way of the cross’. I love my church but sometimes the sermon doesn’t shika. It feels like it was meant for someone else and mine was preached the Sunday before. Although I must confess that maybe it’s my settings that are wrong for the sermon sometimes, and not the pastor or the message.

Once we arrived at church and parked the car, I did the usual routine of depositing my baby sharks in their various classes, and then went up the balcony of the main sanctuary. I was glad to find my spot empty. Eighth row on the left, last seat on the aisle. If my church had seats numbered like on a plane, I would book that seat for the whole year. My church experience is affected by where I seat. If I’m comfortable in my favourite spot, then my heart and mind somehow tune in easier. Strange eh.  Although there’s a downside to this mpango, especially when the pastor of the day is your pal. George Nuthu, who used to be my pastor some years back called me out once in service imagine. Then another time he called me in the middle of the week and asked why I missed service the previous Sunday. I asked him how he knows I was a no-show in the midst of a few thousand congregants. He replied that I wasn’t seated at my spot. Sema busted.

Last Sunday the mzungu pastor preaching spoke on the theme of the way of the cross. His message had three illustrations on worship, word and work. If you do these three things in the midst of life’s trials, you shall emerge victorious. Worship God, read the bible and work at what you need to do.

But what caught my ear was a story the pastor shared about his trip to India for a conference. While on a coffee break, he took a walk in the garden of the conference venue. The garden was very well kept and cared for. He met the gardener and they started talking. On the sidewalk were neatly arranged plants in small pots. The gardener asked the pastor, “How old do you think this potted plants are?”

Pastor replied, “Maybe a few months old.” The gardener responded that the small plants were five years old. That surprised the pastor. Then the gardener pointed at a huge tree laden with fruits and very leafy and asked the same question. The pastor said that tree must be thirty years old if the small potted plants are five years old. The gardener again shocked the pastor by replying that the huge tree was also five years old. This perplexed the pastor. I also wondered how that could be.

The gardener’s answer was classic. He said the big difference in size was because the small plants were potted and the tree was planted. That statement chased away the little sleep I had thanks to celebrating my sister-in-law’s birthday the night before till the small hours of the morning, where you’ve stopped counting. You know those hours when mummy shark asks in the morning, “What time did you come?” and I reply, “After midnight.” After all, she was turning forty so there’s no way that can go down quietly.

I’m still chewing on the meaning of that message. I know its major, but it’s like one of those things you are told that you need to unpack slowly because it relates to your entire life. So if I talk about this point in a few other posts please bear with me folks. For now I feel like so many of us are potted. We are like the beautifully painted clay pots outside my house that I bought on Ngong road. On the outside we look cute and attractive yet very shallow. To me this represents faking it due to the pressure from the exhibitionist society we live in. How we appear to others is far from who we really are. Many of us remain in our small pots, which are also comfort zones where very little growth takes place. Potted plants get watered, cared for and kept away from the harsh environment, but they remain small all their lives. What a boring life that is.

On the other hand, the planted tree grew and produced fruit and even offered shade to passers-by. I’m sure when it was small; it had to fight worms eating at its tender small leaves and had to grow deep roots in search of water and nutrients.  We may be born in varying situations but once we are old enough to decide what our lives will be like, then that’s where the major difference shows up. It is easy to notice planted individuals by their fruit. A timely example during this rainy season, when we should be planting trees after greedy individuals have almost depleted our forest cover, is Wangari Maathai. I don’t need to praise her here. Her deeds speak for themselves long after she left us.

So folks, are you planted or potted? If potted please break the pot and get planted. Occupy your space fully, make and live the life you want. For you who are already planted, kindly offer those breaking their pots some soil of encouragement for them to grow and blossom. If your absence is not felt when you exit this life, then your presence wasn’t necessary. Nawachia hapo.