By REV. JUNE JOHNSON

St. John’s Episcopal Church

Several weeks ago, I bought half a dozen stalks of Pussy Willow when I was in Winn-Dixie. For some reason, this particular flower has poetic connections for me. I never have seen Pussy Willow growing in the yard, but it is often in photographs that accompany poems about the coming of Spring and the promise of new life.

I brought those stalks back to my office and stuck them in a large clear glass vase, thinking I would get to enjoy the fuzzy little blooms until they died.

But a miracle—at least for me—has begun.

Those woody stalks have put out roots!

Fine, white hair-like roots growing below the water line. And the stalks are putting out shoots—tender and pale green with soft tiny leaves. To say that I am thrilled is a huge understatement! I would never have believed that this would happen.

You have to remember that I was raised by a father who could make anything grow. He raised vegetables and flowers, grass and trees in abundance.

Plants loved my father—you could hear the sigh of appreciation every time he walked by a plant.

But me—I have a dismal brown thumb. I cannot even grow mint. Seriously!

Most of what I pot dies quickly and sadly.

I love plants.

I love green things indoors and out. I crave blossoms and healthy, shiny leaves, so I try to keep my dismal brown thumb sheathed.

But the Pussy Willow lives! I touched it and it still decided to put out shoots. What a joy! What a surprise!

How like much of our lives. Some things that we work so hard to cultivate fail, and some things we simply stick in water thrive. Looking at the Pussy Willow, I have been thinking a lot about failing and thriving, and the lessons learned from each.

Failure is a better teacher than success.

Failure often shows us our strengths as well as our weaknesses. Failure can become a defeat or a challenge to overcome, a new door to a new achievement. Failure can illumine our limits and show us just how far we have come. Our culture does not welcome failure at any level, but our faith does.

Faith actually begins on the edge of failure.

The most obvious illustration of this is in sports. The father showing the toddler how to roll a ball and the mother applauding her teenager on the Olympic winners’ platform know how many failures it takes before success comes. And how each success leads to another challenge with more failures.

When I know that I am attempting something beyond my ability, my faith pushes me to begin anyway, even if I do not know where that will lead.

Faith is not static.

Faith is like the roots growing on the Pussy Willow stalks reaching out for more life, more nourishment, more space even in a glass vase.

Success does not come because one does not fail. Success comes because one fails and then overcomes. If our successes are all easy, we never grow any muscles, never gain any substance in our faith.

To have a “faith that overcomes,” we must be willing to face obstacles head on, not avoid them. If we are not open to failing gloriously we will never succeed gloriously. Faith teaches us that God is with us in the trenches as well as on the winners’ stand.

Faith teaches us that we can be a miracle of God—a growing, loving, thriving person in the midst even of failure if we trust God to make the most of us. We must take to God all the things that are in our lives, good and bad, so that God’s hand can nourish the good and weed out the bad.

Real life calls for real faith in a real God who is present, alive, and interested in cultivating the soil of our souls. It is time to let God be our Master Gardener. God promises to grow the tiny acorn of our faith into a might oak!