On the drive home from a trip to Omaha, I had the chance to catch up with a really good friend of mine, Larry, and we ended up having one of those conversations that sticks with you.

Larry recently retired after a long and successful career in the lawn and tree care industry. He is one of those people I have always had tremendous respect for, not necessarily because of everything he knows or has achieved, but because of the way he has used what he knows to influence and impact other people.

I hope someday I can leave a similar kind of impact.

But I also know I will never be Larry. And Larry will never be me. That is exactly how it is supposed to be.

During our conversation, I mentioned the Well Rooted article and how much I have enjoyed having the opportunity to combine and share two things that I love, horticulture and life. I told him that whenever I can find a lesson about life hiding somewhere in a lawn, a tree, a root system, or a landscape, I am probably going to write about it.

In true Larry fashion, he immediately suggested something that I had not considered at all, and it stuck with me.

He told me I should consider writing about the importance of diversity and uniqueness in a landscape. The more I thought about it, the more I realized he was talking about something much bigger than just plants.

A beautiful landscape rarely consists of just one thing. There may be an expansive oak providing shade over everything beneath it. Around it might be smaller trees, shrubs, ornamental grasses, flowering plants, and groundcover.

Some bloom in the spring. Others wait until summer. Some become magnificent in the fall. Others quietly remain green when almost everything else has gone dormant.

They are different sizes, colors, textures, shapes, and they each serve different purposes. And somehow, when they are placed together well, none of those differences diminish the landscape.

They complete it.

Isn’t it interesting how much people are the same way?

In Romans 12, it tells us that just as our bodies have many parts, each with a special function, so it is with the body of Christ. Paul then begins naming some of the different gifts God has placed within people.

Serving. Teaching. Encouraging. Giving. Leadership. Kindness. Different gifts. Different people.

One body.

Though I can forget this, I absolutely love that. Because one of our tendencies is to notice what somebody else does well and immediately compare it to ourselves.

I wish I could communicate like them. I wish I understood people like she does. I wish I had his confidence. I wish I had their patience. I wish I could lead like that.

I have a difficult time remembering this myself, but what if someone else’s gift was never meant to reveal something missing in us? What if it was simply something beautiful God planted in them?

I do not walk through a landscape and become frustrated because a redbud doesn’t look like an oak. I don’t criticize an ornamental grass because it cannot provide shade. I would never look at a flower and wonder why it cannot withstand a Kansas windstorm like a mature tree can.

That would make no sense because their differences are part of what makes the landscape beautiful.

Yet with people, I sometimes struggle to extend that same grace. I can compare. I can categorize. I can compete. Sometimes I even feel threatened by someone whose gifts are different from my own.

Romans offers us a much healthier way to live.

“Be honest in your evaluation of yourselves.”

Notice that word. Honest.

Not inflated. Not diminished. But honest.

Recognize what God has placed within you, and then use it well. If you serve, serve well. If you teach, teach well. If you encourage, encourage. If you lead, take the responsibility seriously.

And perhaps just as importantly, learn to recognize those gifts when they appear in somebody else. There is something incredibly freeing about standing beside someone who is completely different from you and not feeling the need to become them.

To simply be able to say, I am so glad that God planted you right here. You bring something to this landscape that I never could have.

And hopefully, they can say the same about us.

But Larry touched on something else that day that I have continued thinking about.

It is not enough just to recognize that we belong in the landscape. Each part of a beautiful landscape contributes something to the beauty around it.

Maybe we are supposed to do the same.

We are not simply here to occupy our little piece of ground. We have been given gifts that can make the landscape around us better. But unlike a flower that blooms simply because that is what it was created to do, bringing beauty into another person’s life often requires something from us.

It requires intentionality.

Encouragement does not help someone if I never speak it. Compassion does not comfort anyone if I never show it. Generosity does not meet a need if I hold tightly to what I have. And love does not change another person’s life simply because I feel it.

Maybe that is part of what Paul is asking of us in Romans 12.

Do not merely recognize your gift.

Use it.

Serve well. Teach well. Encourage someone. Give generously. Lead responsibly. Show kindness gladly.

Bring something beautiful into the landscape where you have been planted.

And hopefully, because we were there, somebody else’s little part of the landscape became more beautiful too.

But there is another part of a healthy landscape that we cannot ignore. Every landscape requires maintenance. Because while we are appreciating everything that is growing well, there are almost always a few things trying to creep in that do not belong.

The same thing happens within us.

Comparison can become a weed. Complaining can become a weed. Pride can become a weed. Jealousy can become a weed. Bitterness can spread underground long before anyone notices it above the surface. Judgment can quietly begin occupying places where compassion once grew. And resentment has an incredible ability to use up the same resources that joy needs to survive.

I believe that is why Romans 12 moves so naturally from talking about our individual gifts into talking about how we treat one another.

Really love people. Honor one another. Rejoice with those who rejoice. Weep with those who weep. Live in harmony. Do not think you know everything. Do everything you can to live at peace with everyone. In other words, tend to the landscape. Protect what is worth growing. Pull what is beginning to crowd it out.

And never become so focused on your own little corner that you forget you are part of something so much larger than yourself.

Maybe one of the greatest signs of maturity is being able to recognize our own gifts without believing they make us more important than anyone else, while also recognizing someone else’s gifts without believing they make us less important.

This is the place where comparison begins giving way to gratitude. Gratitude for what God has entrusted to us. Gratitude for what He has entrusted to somebody else. Gratitude that the landscape was never supposed to look exactly the same.

That makes me think about Larry again.

There are things he has contributed to our industry that I probably never will. There are also things God has placed within me that are different from what He placed within Larry.

That does not make either contribution greater. It makes the landscape richer. And maybe that should be our hope.

Not that everyone notices us. Not that we become the tallest tree in the landscape. Not even that we become somebody’s favorite part of it.

Maybe we simply hope that because we were planted here, something around us became better. That we provided shade somewhere it was needed. Encouragement where someone was struggling. Wisdom where someone was confused. Compassion where someone was hurting. Strength where someone was tired.

A meaningful life will not be found in trying to become everything.

Instead, I believe it is found in becoming faithful with whatever God has entrusted to us while learning to appreciate what He has entrusted to the people around us.

None of us were meant to be the whole landscape. We were simply given the privilege of becoming a beautiful part of it. And I am truly grateful that God planted Larry, and so many others, in the landscape of my life.

A Practice to Cultivate

Take a few minutes this week and think about three people around you whose gifts are different from yours.

Do not compare yourself to them.

Instead, study them.

What do they bring into a room, a family, a workplace, a church, or a friendship that makes that place better because they are there?

Then tell them.

Tell somebody what you see growing in them.

And afterward, turn the question inward.

What has God entrusted to you?

What grows naturally within you that could provide something meaningful to someone else?

And one more question may be worth asking.

Am I intentionally using those gifts to bring something beautiful into the lives around me?

Then take one final look at the landscape.

Look for the weeds.

Is comparison growing somewhere? Pride? Jealousy? Bitterness? Resentment?

Pull them early. Because a beautiful life is not created by becoming everything.

It is created by faithfully growing what God planted within us while celebrating what He planted in everyone around us.

We are many parts.

One body. One landscape. And we belong to each other.

‘Well Rooted’ is written by Jeremy Elliott. Elliott owns a lawncare business and lives in the Great Bend area.