As I gazed upon her sad, near lifeless state, I was reminded of how she once used to be–full of life and a thriving perennial. But now, my poor, pitiful Spotted Dead Nettle plant’s appearance was a significant contrast to the way she used to pridefully display her spotted leaves and pink blooms.

A few years ago, I planted her along the edge of my driveway in front of my landscaping mounds of decorative rock, bushes and other plants. At the time, it seemed like a perfect home for “Nettle.” However, a few years of growth and maturation later, Nettle was growing in an almost horizontal downward course–favoring the concrete. She wasn’t adorning the topography of my landscaping as I had hoped. The beauty and unique characteristics of her silvery, spotted leaves, combined with her dainty pink flower plumes, were supposed to accentuate my Juniper bushes, not encroach upon my driveway. Nettle was also at daily risk of being trampled by feet and in harms way of car tires. I had no other choice but to move her to a safer and much better place.

I decided to transplant her to the upper tier of my decorative rock mound. If she grew in a forward, horizontal fashion, her leaves and flowers would drape gracefully over the rocks. If she decided to grow vertically, her pink flowers would provide the perfect contrast to my yellowish-green Junipers. Either way, her unique beauty–her individual gifts she brought to the table of life–would enhance the other things around her.

With my gardening trowel in hand, I hollowed out a better suited burrow for Nettle’s new home. I knew this wouldn’t be a pleasant experience for her. In order for this to be a successful transplant, I knew it was important to dig deep enough so I wouldn’t disturbed her roots. Each time I thought I had reached an acceptable level of depth, I would use my trowel as a lever and try to gently lift Nettle out of the soil. I kept meeting resistance. Apparently, I hadn’t dug deep enough. Either that, or Nettle was holding on with a white-knuckled grip to the only home she had known for the past few years.

I repeated the digging process until I thought I had actually made progress toward China! Finally, I was able to lift Nettle out of her familiar environment. I carefully placed her into her new abode. I added a generous amount of nutrient enriched potting soil around Nettle and then back-filled the crevasse with the dug out dirt. I sprinkled a liberal amount of water around her. I hoped the warmth of the of the sun’s rays would provide light and comfort for Nettle in her new surroundings.

Days later, however, pathetically she just lay there. She was in shock. Her drooping stems, wilted leaves and dainty blooms of pink lay crumbled on top of the soil around her. It was as if she had given up on life. I whispered, “Hang in there, Nettle. Trust me. I know you don’t like this. I know you’re stressed. But this new place will give you an opportunity to thrive. Eventually, you will be able to accomplish things you never would have been able to if I left you where you were.”

But because Nettle is just a plant, there was no way she could have understood that my plans for her were in her best interest. There were no words I could have spoken that would have convinced her that these new surroundings would not only benefit her, but those around her. There was nothing I could have done that would have helped her realize that this transplant would allow her to reach her full potential.

Like Nettle, sometimes we feel as though we have been transplanted. Life, as we have known it, changes. Our familiar surroundings alters, and what we have become accustomed to is no longer the same. We may have been going through life, faithfully serving God, and then suddenly we experienced the death of a loved one, a physical accident or an illness that has affected the way we need to live life, the loss of a job, or an undesirable move. When God places us in a new environment, typically, we don’t like it. We don’t approve. We’re stressed. And with a white-knuckled grip, we desperately want to hold on to our old way of life.

Anger, hurt, and disappointment with our new surroundings leaves us in a state of shock. The unique characteristics we brought to the table of life, we feel we can no longer bring. The gifts and talents we used to gladly and pridefully offer begin to wither and wilt. And at times, we may even want to give up on life.

But all the while God is whispering, “Hang in there. Trust Me. I know you don’t like this. I know you are stressed. But these new surroundings will one day give you an opportunity to thrive and to enhance those around you. Eventually, you will be able to achieve things you never would have been able to if I left you where you were.”

When I transplanted Nettle, a human factor was involved. There was the possibility I didn’t do it correctly–the possibility I made a mistake. But we can find comfort in knowing that when God transplants us, a supernatural factor is involved. There is no possibility of a mistake. God knows our unique characteristics. He knows the individual gifts we possess. (Some of which we may not even know we have yet.) And He knows the best environment for them to be most effectively used–not only to benefit us, but also those around us.

Unlike Nettle however, there is a way for us to know that when we’ve been transplanted, God truly has our best interest at heart. God’s spoken Word in Psalm 119:50, assures us that His promises give us life. They revive us. They rejuvenate us. They will provide the comfort we need to help us through those undesirable transplanted moments of our life. And what are some of those promises

“Never will I leave you, never will I forsake you.” (Joshua 1:5)

“Persevere and don’t give up for at the proper time you will reap      a harvest.” (Galatians 6:9)

“I know the plans I have for you. Plans to prosper you, not to harm you, but to give you a hope and a future.” (Jeremiah 29:11)

“I will be faithful to complete the good work I began in you.” (Philippians 1:6)

And in Romans 8:28, God promises that in all things–aka every-transplanted-moment-of-our-life, He will be working out for our good. We may not see that “good” at the time, but if we will commit to Galatians 6:9, and persevere through our undesirable new surroundings, eventually, God promises we will reap a harvest!