When we first moved into our building a few years ago, I had great plans for my office. I envisioned a large Boston fern in the corner.
Why a fern?
A fern said success to me. In my mind’s eye, I remembered all the up-and-coming yuppies in Minneapolis having lunch in fern bars.
Fern bars were popular in the 80s. Walk into this upscale restaurant and it would be all brass and wood, Tiffany lamps and ferns. If you could push back enough fronds, you might find a table where you could sit.
I never could push back enough fronds. I was always on the outside of fern bars looking in.
In the late 80s as a freshman in college, my outfit varied between a man’s brown tweed coat with leather elbows and a Russian army wool jacket, both bought “preworn” from the thrift warehouse Ragstock.
I lived in a shabby section of St. Paul. The closest I got to a fern bar was a dusty plastic plant in the corner of the coffee shop where I did my homework for classes at the U, the affectionate nickname for the University of Minnesota.
Fast forward two decades. I was working as a web developer, about to move into my own office.
With high hopes, I bought a fern. Day one: majestic.
Day two: is this leaf looking brown?
Day three: a complete and utter shedding of fern fronds all over my floor.
Autumn for my fern plant arrived overnight as if my office had a severe frost.
In a panic, I looked online for an answer. Boston ferns are fussy and prone to shedding, I read.
Well, how successful does an office look with an anemic fern and a pile of dead leaves strewn about?
With a heavy heart, I realized that the fern would have to go. But where?
The magic table!
In our break room, you can put unwanted things on the table. And they disappear. Magic, right? I carried the rustling fern down to the table, leaving a trail of crumpled plant matter behind as I walked.
I left the fern with my well wishes and returned to my office for some much needed cleaning.
The next time I went to the break room, Ta-da! The fern was gone!
It’s a wonderful thing to work someplace with a magic table.
A word of warning based on experience: always check the expiration date on any snacks you might discover there before you eat them…
Lord, help us let go of the things we no longer need.
Bless our possessions to help others.
What are you letting go of now?