Plumerias are trees with fragrant flowers that grow in tropical places. In Polynesia, the flowers are made into leis. In Bali, they are put into decorations and headdresses. They are beautiful, sweet-smelling flowers also known as the fragipani. If you're in Hawaii, you can buy a plumeria stick to take home and start your own plant.

A few years ago, on my last trip to Hawaii, I bought such a stick. They're about $5 in any tourist shop. In the little plastic bag, they don't look like much. The stick is about 6 inches long and looks like a knobby cigar. The instructions are to jam the stick into a pot of soil, water it, set it in the sun and see what happens. The bag can sit on the rack for months, waiting for this promise.

Lo and behold, after a few weeks of care, this dead-looking stick begins to sprout a leaf and then another. Water, sun and a little care turn it into a plant. It will branch and put out more foliage. With a little time, it's possible for this house plant to grown in to a little tree. There's the hope that one might, in the fullness of time, have one's own blooming tree with the possibility of a plumeria lei. It seems remarkable that so much can come from something seemly dead.

But it doesn't stop there.

If the plant doesn't get what it needs: not enough water or the pot gets too small or it's put in the shade or it's ignored, it will begin to slowly but surely lose its leaves. But it doesn't die. It just withers away back to its core. It once again looks like the knobby cigar.

What's even more remarkable if this stick is once again given the care it needs, it will begin to leaf out again. The promise of the beautiful flowering tree is renewed. The plant doesn't ask for much. It just asks for it's needs to be met and the rewards will be great.

Even though I have a very green thumb, I have killed more houseplants since D-day than I ever have before in my life. My plumeria has gone through this cycle a few times. Today, a single leaf has emerged from the stick and it makes me think.

Lately, I've been feeling like my plumeria parallels my marriage. With love and care, it flourishes. With neglect, it withers but doesn't entirely die. I've been wondering how many times the plumeria stick of my marriage can go through this cycle. How long before the stick decides it can't keep leafing out anymore? How long will the core is still be alive waiting for its needs to be met? Maybe I need to take my stick and put it into a different pot.

So, that's the story of my plumeria.

Amazing parable. Thanks for sharing.

Grapegirl-

I know exactly what you mean. I'm from Hawaii. Besides the plumeria stick, I brought back many of the native plants back to California just to remind me of home. I have orchids, fragrant white ginger, torch-like red ginger, and the native "good luck" ti leaf plant that are used for many things like grass skirt, wrap food with called "lau-lau", and medicinal purposes.

My plumeria stick has shed its leaves since D-day, 2/1/06. Its condition mirrors my life on how I have ignored myself since D-day. The no eating, loss of sleep, lack of energy. I noticed this yesterday as I was gardening. Weeds have grown to knee length. Every day, I walked by my plumeria stick and ignored it. A few times, I thought to myself, if it died, I can always get another one when I went home. Saying this is another parable because we, as humans, look at life and marriage this way. We think that "if it doesn't work, we can always get a divorce." Rarely, do we stop and recognize that if we took the same care and energy in our marriage as we do with a plant, we will receive the beauty of what marriage is.

I decided to start caring for myself. I started to pull the weeds from my garden so that I can once again see the beauty in it. I fertilized my orchids and tendered the soil around my plumeria stick. As I did this, I could see life on its top, green and alive, just waiting to be cared again. I miss its fragrant flowers the same way I missed the happy times in my marriage.

Thanks for the wonderful story. You made me miss home in warm way.

Star