A Lesson in Detachment

A frustrating season of gardening reminds Andrea Vij that it is God who makes the flowers and God who draws our loved ones back home.  

They call it a green thumb, and I’ve been accused of having one, but last year I couldn’t grow a decent sunflower to save my life. And believe me, I tried.

I bought seeds at the nursery in late May, just as I’d done in previous years. I poked shallow holes in the rocky soil behind our house, dropped the seeds in carefully, covered them with dirt, watered them daily, and then waited for them to sprout — which they did, right on schedule.

That’s when things went awry.

First came the chipmunks and then the rabbits, who munched my little sprouts into oblivion. So I set my jaw and planted more seeds, this time surrounding them with chicken wire. The seeds sprouted and grew — and grew, and GREW! — and when buds began to form on thick, sturdy stalks, I smiled and thought back to the sunflowers I’d grown the year before: tall, robust, regal, and bright. By all indications, I could expect more of the same.

But then came the deer. Hungry and ruthless, they ate everything they could reach, which was pretty much everything, and when I discovered the unsightly mess they’d left behind, I pulled it all up, grieved my loss, and decided to move on.

So much for my green thumb.

Promises, Promises

Growing up I was promised that rewards would come my way if I gave my best effort, and great things would happen with determination and hard work. But last summer, all the determination in the world couldn’t grow me a crop of sunflowers, and I’d worked as hard as ever. So why no results?

In His Sermon on the Mount, Jesus makes a similar kind of promise:

“Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks, receives; and the one who seeks, finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened.” (Matthew 7:7-8)

It sounds so simple. Pray, and God will answer. Work hard, and great things will happen. Plant sunflowers, and they will grow.

But it’s never that simple. Just ask some determined soul who’s been praying for a friend or family member who has left the faith. Years can pass with no clear answers and no clear results.

If Only …

I talked recently with a friend about her grown son who stopped going to Mass long ago, but she hasn’t given up on him and never will. Even though he shows no signs of returning any time soon, she prays a Rosary for him every day, and like so many moms in similar situations, her dismay has mellowed over time into quiet surrender and trust in God.

“You know,” she told me, “he’s on a journey of his own. God has a plan for him, and I might not live to see it all work out.”

I have my own list of loved ones who have stopped going to Mass or have turned away from God altogether — one in an angry huff, another in loneliness and confusion, and another in a slow process of creeping indifference. I pray for all of them and long for their return, the sooner the better.

But like my friend’s son, these loved ones are on journeys of their own, and like my friend, I should surrender and leave the details to God. Still, it doesn’t seem fair when I think of all the parents, grandparents, siblings, and friends who pray day after day for those who have fallen away. If only we could see some results.

Meanwhile …

I’d long since forgotten about my sunflowers when late last summer, one spindly little stem rose up from the rocky soil behind my house, and in a move reminiscent of Charlie Brown’s Christmas tree, produced a single bud that opened its petals to the sky, grinned up at the sun, and then drooped under the burden of its own weight.

But droopy or not, that sunflower bloomed cheerfully until it withered and fell, and I loved it for being so spunky and brave, especially after all the frustration I’d experienced earlier in the season.

And it didn’t stop there.

Summer faded, winter passed, and when spring came, the rocky soil began to warm. In March I noticed about a dozen four-leafed sprouts — and then two dozen, and then three — poking up from under the rocks and beginning to grow.

What a surprise! My droopy little sunflower had scattered its seeds, and the new sprouts were popping up early enough that the chipmunks and rabbits hadn’t ventured outside yet. Factor in an unseasonably warm April, and by mid-May I had a good-sized bed of sunflowers getting ready to bloom, with no deer in sight. Who would have thought?

In God’s Own Glorious Way

When Jesus says, “Ask and it will be given to you,” He doesn’t tell us how things will play out. In the case of my sunflowers, the end results were amazing, but they came only after I’d surrendered, moved on, and stopped trying to force an outcome. And now, more than a year later, I’m looking out my window at a gorgeous crop of sunflowers that arrived on its own schedule and can’t seem to stop blooming.

While I’m tempted to write about the virtue of patience, I’ve decided to view this whole experience as a lesson in detachment. No matter what we’re trying to grow or who we’re trying to convert, we have to let go of the details and surrender them to God. Yes, we plant the seeds, and yes, we do the work. We pray as hard as ever and we never give up, but in the end it is God who makes the flowers and God who draws our loved ones back home, both of which He will do in His own glorious way.

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Copyright 2026 Andrea Vij
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