I used to have a green thumb. Mom was an enthusiastic gardener who’s skill at tending things made it all grow, and she tutored me. For decades my Illinois gardens were happy.

Since moving to Michigan, however, I haven’t done as well. I thought my yellow cottage could resemble a Thomas Kincaid painting if I hung flowering window boxes, so I bought 3 of them. Their northern exposure meant 100% shade, but I figured impatiens or begonias would work.

I tried both over 2 consecutive summers, but the boxes never looked good. Last year I purchased new groups of plants 3 times over, but saw the demise of all 3 sets. This year, though, I have a fool proof plan. Blossoms are guaranteed, because the flowers I planted are… artificial. Their label bragged they could fool anyone, so yesterday, the day before my Sunday brunch for 14, I brought the 3 window boxes into the house to set them up with white flowers and beautiful plastic asparagus fern.

While I assembled gardening tools, the 3 window boxes (full of last year’s moist potting soil) sat on my dining room table, and when I came back, I got a big surprise. The table was alive with critters who’d been living in the window boxes while it wintered behind the evergreens.

There were roly-poly bugs, ants, spiders, and several earth worms making their way across my table, exploring their new surroundings. I knew my brunch guests wouldn’t appreciate critters crawling over their feet or (gulp) their coffee cake, so had to move fast.

In keeping with my policy of never harming an outdoor creature when it’s outside but signing its death warrant inside, I started with the spiders, then finished off everything else except the worms. They received grace and were relocated in the yard.

After that, the plastic planting proceeded without a hitch except when a frog suddenly jumped out of the third window box. About the size of a plum, he startled me but quickly hopped to the table, chair, and floor, ultimately finding shelter next to a table leg. After making several unsuccessful grabs, I laced myself through the chairs trying to put a hand over him, but he always stayed one hop ahead of me.

In a way his moves imitated what I sometimes do when I hop away from God’s plans to carry me out of one of the messes I’ve made, favoring my own route out. He has every intention of liberating me, but when I pray for his direction and he responds with a protective hand over me, I jump right out from under it. Then when I get into trouble a few hops later, I beg him for rescue.

The frog didn’t know I had a good plan to carry him back outdoors. And because he wouldn’t let me hold him, he might have signed his own death warrant. Although I kept trying to catch him, in the end he completely disappeared.

Thirty-six hours later, I still haven’t found him.

“Listen to advice and accept instruction, that you may gain wisdom in the future.” (Proverbs 19:20)