Not broken – opened

To say I am a beginning gardener would be more accurate than calling myself an avid one. Somewhere in these later years, I have come to appreciate the beauty of the soil – and what a good day of “dirt therapy” can do for the soul. I remember, as a child, following Daddy out into the garden, watching the quiet joy he found in the harvest. And I remember some of the wisdom he passed down along the way.
One piece has stayed with me all these years. He would say, “Never plant before the pecan trees begin to bud.” I always thought it was just an old Southern saying, but he explained it simply: when the pecan trees begin to bloom, the danger of frost has passed.
This year, I learned the truth of his wisdom for myself. Spring seemed to come early, and I was eager to see the garden bed filled again with fresh life, so I planted, even though the trees still stood bare. Within a few days, I began to see the first signs of growth, the promise of what looked to be a good harvest – and then the frost came.
Perhaps it is in those unexpected moments that we begin to look a little closer. With lessons learned, I found myself turning over the soil for replanting. In my hand was a bulb of garlic – small, unassuming, whole. At first glance, it seemed ready to be planted just as it was. However, I did what felt counterintuitive: I broke it apart, discovering many pieces beneath the surface ready for the ground. Each piece complete in itself. Each one carrying the potential to grow.
It seems almost revelational that seasons of my life have felt much the same as that bulb broken open in my hand. There have been times when things didn’t hold together as I expected – plans shift, circumstances press in, and what once felt whole and complete becomes separated, almost broken, leaving me with questions. We have all been there, using words like broken, undone, and falling apart, but what if we are naming it wrong? What if, instead of breaking apart, we are being opened for greater potential?
Scripture shows us this in Simon Peter. In a moment of fear, he denied even knowing Jesus, something he never imagined he would do (Luke 22:61–62). It could have defined him as a failure – broken beyond repair. But it was not the end of his story. Jesus met him again, not with condemnation, but with restoration. What looked like breaking became the place where Peter was reshaped and called forward. He was not discarded. He was opened, and from that place, his life bore fruit beyond what he could have imagined.
Could it be that this is where we find ourselves more often than we realize? We’re not in pieces beyond repair, but in the careful hands of a loving God who is opening us, layer by layer, revealing what has been placed within all along. Maybe that old wisdom daddy passed down holds a spiritual truth: there is a timing to growth, a wisdom in waiting, a knowing that what cannot yet be seen is already being prepared.
So if this season feels like things are coming apart, take heart. You may not be breaking down. You may simply be being opened – held in the hands of the Gardener, who knows exactly when the season is right, and who is preparing in you a harvest yet to come.
“I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener.” (John 15:1)

Cheryl Mixon-Cruce is Pastor of Ochlockonee Bay United Methodist Church and Sopchoppy United Methodist Church.