Unstoppable

We’ve got a nice garden going this year, but by far the most interesting plant to watch this spring has been the volunteer ivy that has commandeered a dirt patch just behind our house.

I’m the weed-puller in our family (the husband plants plants; I kill ‘em), and I noticed the ivy during my post-winter cleanup spree a while back. It was little at the time, only a few dainty strands stretching up from under some rocks. They were pretty, so I left them alone.

Besides, I thought, how much trouble could one or two little vines be?

Fast forward a month or two, and that patch of dirt is buried beneath a luxurious mat of ivy, green and thick and invincible. The stuff is everywhere. I’d swear it grows a foot a day and sends out new shoots like it’s Spider-Man. (I’m not entirely sure what that means, TBH, but the image works for me.)

Yeah, I should have yanked it, either when I first saw it or when I realized it was trying to take over the world. But I’ve left it alone, even though it’s creeping between siding and up the water spout and snaking one suspicious arm toward the back door.

I can't pull it because ivy is so dang cool. Nothing stands between that plant and growth. Put a rock on it? It’ll wriggle its way out. Put a wall in front of it, it climbs straight up the side. Give it a stake or a shepherd’s hook or another plant incautiously draping one arm in the ivy’s general direction and up it goes, fast as a whip, wrapping and swirling and tangling and looking all innocent until you realize it’s inching its way — quickly! — toward your ankle.

Nothing stops ivy. It just keeps going, no matter what’s in its path.

Man, I admire that.

I like to think of myself as a no-nonsense go-getter who lets nothing slow her down, not when she really believes in something. I even have a necklace engraved with “Unstoppable” and that great, inspirational Bible verse, Philippians 4:13: I can do all things through Christ, who strengthens me.

Trouble is, I’m totally stoppable. I stop all the time, even when I really, really care about something and really, really believe in it.

Maybe I’m just chicken. Maybe I lack the courage to stand behind my convictions and let fear of failure — or of hard work, or of getting laughed at or yelled at or despised — knock me down without even putting up a real fight.

Or maybe I’m lazy, and when the going gets tough, I realize I’d rather have a bowl of ice cream and watch “Everybody Loves Raymond” reruns.

I think both of those things are true, not that I’m proud of that.

I also think humans aren’t ivy.

We have awesome, human brains that let us think lofty thoughts and have ideas that move us to action. We feel compassion and idealism and pride and love, and we get all riled up and ready to Change The World.

But so often we hit obstacles and, wham, those ideas and ambitions go out the window while our human brains go every which way except the ivy way. We do everything except just keep going, no matter what.

In some ways, that’s a good thing. Sometimes plodding forward at all costs is the wrong move. Stubbornly moving toward the goal you set or adhering to the decision you made can have devastatingly bad consequences.

But there’s a lot to be said for the ivy way. Ivy vines don’t barge through obstacles; they go around them. They don’t have an intended course; they just grow, reaching as far as they can, however they can get there. And they don’t try to go it alone. They branch off, create new, multiply, share the job of reaching, reaching, reaching wherever their roots send them.

I have work I want to do in this world. I’m not sure what that work is going to look like by the time I’m done with it. I just know I have this stirring inside that says, “Go. Do.” 

I’m going to run into a heck of a lot of obstacles, getting wherever it is I’m going. And I’m going to be scared and lazy and stoppable. But maybe I can keep going anyway. Maybe I can keep my feet rooted in the stuff that stirs my soul and just see what happens. And maybe I can remember I’m not alone, and that all around me, hearts are yearning and minds are straining and fellow travelers are reaching, reaching, destinationless but determined.

And as I reach, maybe I can remember the One who is reaching for me, reaching, yearning, straining, climbing around every obstacle to tap me on the soul and say, “I love you, I love you, I love you, you silly, stoppable thing.”

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go make sure the back yard ivy hasn’t figured out how to get into the house.

It’s unstoppable like that.

---------------------

I used Google Lens to try to identify our yard ivy but couldn’t. If you recognize it and can tell me what it’s called, I’d love to hear from you.

I also have potted indoor ivy that’s currently growing up a window near my desk. I’m a little afraid of it.

---------------------

For those of you who read my last blog post: I ran into Hugo Davies again yesterday. He says hi.

If you know someone who might appreciate reading blog posts about cats and ivy and being better humans and whatnot, I’d be honored if you’d share this with them. Share your email in the signup box below to receive notifications when I post something new, which is weeklyish, or email me at julie.j.riddle@gmail.com. I’d like to hear from you.