In many winters I have feverishly covered the more fragile plants in my garden hoping that I might save them from the damage wrought by frost. Among those that concerned me was a lovely hibiscus bush that had graced our patio all summer long with lovely salmon colored blooms. The plant had spoken to me as we walked along the rows of a nursery and I knew that it had to join the roses and azaleas in my garden. I planted it in a sheltered place that got just the right amount of sun and water. Soon it had doubled then tripled is size and when July came it burst forth in glory catching my eye with its thick double ruffled flowers. It was one of the loveliest things I had ever seen.

After a couple of years a harsher than usual winter came along. That’s when I feverishly worked alongside my husband preparing my beautiful hibiscus for the worst. We wrapped it in a specially designed blanked created just for plants. It was made to keep the plant warm but still allow it to breathe. We felt confident that our efforts would work because they had sheltered our other prized varieties time and again. Besides the freezing temperature only lasted for a single night. 

When we unwrapped the plants most of them appeared to be as hardy as ever with the exception of the hibiscus which looked bruised and battered. We were not too worried because even the potted hibiscus that we stored in the garage each fall looked the worse for wear but we knew they would bloom again in the spring. There were no more freezes that year so we patiently waited for March to arrive with its magical healing powers for nature in our yard. 

Every plant we owned began to show new growth. Our amaryllis bulbs sprouted buds, then blooms. The roses leafed out and soon were boasting so many flowers that they appeared to be wedding bouquets. The azaleas were more prolific than ever and the grass grew enough to need a trim. There were little green shoots on all of our hibiscus plants, but not the one that I had so prized. I did not want to admit it, but I feared that it was dead.

April came and then May and while our yard was a riot of color and beauty the hibiscus remained bare, its branches looking as barren as a tree in the dead of winter. The plant looked so out of place next to the growth all around it and my husband soon convinced me to replace it with a hardier specimen. He dug it up and tossed it onto the grass but somehow I was unable to bring myself to throw it in the trash. Instead I filled a large pot with rich black rose soil and replanted the hibiscus hoping that it might still have a tiny hope of life. I moved the pot to the side of the house where it might rest out of sight but not out of mind. I kept it watered and checked on it regularly. By fall it appeared to maybe have a single bit of green sprouting from the its trunk. It was difficult to discern if the growth was part of the plant or just a stray weed taking hold. 

When October came and with it time to store the potted plants in the garage there were two tiny leaves on the hibiscus. I lovingly carted the pot to its wintertime home with the others and mostly forgot to think about it with the exception of the times when I gave each of the specimens a drink of water. 

In March I placed the hibiscus on the side of the house once again. By the end of the summer it was a fairly good sized little plant that had stayed green with no blooms. So it was for three years but I refused to give up hope. Somehow I knew that the beauty of the plant was still there even though it had been so disappointing for years. This July the hibiscus that I had always loved finally returned in all its splendor filling its branches with luscious salmon colored flowers. It was so glorious that I felt like the parent of the Prodigal Son welcoming my loved one to my home again. 

We all too often give up on people much as I was tempted to do with my hibiscus plant. I might have saved myself the grief and effort of nursing the bush back to life, but in my heart I believed that the beauty was still there even when the little shrub was its ugliest. I kept hold of hope that my wonderful hibiscus would one day return. It took much patience for me to keep believing that there was a chance for recovery because the signs of rebirth were barely there. So it often is with people who disappoint us or fall from grace. It’s sometimes easier to just turn our backs on them and move on, especially when they do not seem to be trying hard enough to redeem themselves. 

All too often I witness individuals working to overcome addictions or attempting to change habits that have been hurtful. Often their progress is brutally slow and filled with hopelessness and relapses into bad habits that seem intent on killing who they once were. It’s difficult not to just turn away from them, lock them out of our lives and fail to remember that they once meant something to us. It is quite normal to grow weary of their profligate ways and to wish them out of our lives. Sometimes that is even the wisest thing to do, but not we have done our best to give them a chance to redeem themselves. We forget that sometimes our prodigal sons and daughters do finally return. Redemption is one of the most glorious triumphs of the human spirit and most of the time it is accomplished when the wounded and battered find someone willing to believe in the them and help them to do the work to heal and grow and bloom again. 

I won’t leave my hibiscus to its own resources anymore. I understand its weaknesses and will do my best to nurture it to keep it being a beautiful source of light and joy. So it is with anyone we know who has faltered and disappointed us. We should not give up on them easily. It may take time and they may even fail to to come back to life. The point is that if we have patience and if all goes well one day we may once again see the person that we once knew, healed and thriving. Surely its worth a try to have someone we love be born again.