The Daffodil

Yesterday morning, I looked out front at the daffodil (some people call them jonquils, and although they are closely related, they aren’t quite the same) growing and flowering in the front yard flower bed.  We had just had five inches of snow on Sunday, and a low temperature of 15 degrees during the night before.  The poor flower was wilted and drooped as if it had lost its last friend.  I thought to myself that, although hardy in the early spring, the snow and cold had taken its toll and it wouldn’t be there much longer.

Imagine my surprise today as I pulled into the drive this afternoon in sixty degree weather.  The flowers were bright; the leaves were perky; the flowering plant was none the worse for the wear.  Whatever had caused it to droop earlier was long gone, and the delicate flower showed its strength and resilience by continuing to herald the coming of spring.

I kind of like to take life lessons from things like this that I see from time to time.  And this one is pretty obvious, at least to me.  The flower that is at once delicate and susceptible to outside influences, when given half a chance, shows its inner strength and determination even in the face of great trial.  Of course, the flower didn’t develop that ability itself.  It was given that ability by the Creator of the universe.

And it’s just as applicable to us as the human part of the creation.  We may be swayed and blown about by forces beyond our control at times.  We may appear to be beaten down, and out for the count.  But there’s something that has been placed within us that makes us get up, and with half a chance to come away from whatever the experience is even stronger than before.

That “something” was not something that came to us by chance or by happenstance.  It was placed there intentionally by the Creator…knowing we would have need of it and knowing that we would use it to His glory as we marvel at the creative genius that made all of this.  “We are his workmanship,” Paul the apostle said.  And so we are.

You can probably think of several things in the created world that behave this same way.  Given half a chance, whatever it is that is going through a trial plows through the difficulty and comes out on the other side perhaps bloody, but unbowed (to borrow a phrase from Henley).  What a glorious and marvelous wonder this God of heaven is!

The Seasons

Tomorrow, March 20, 2013, at 6:02am CDT, spring arrives in Wichita, Kansas.  Now, I know that there will be days of cold, frost, and maybe even a spit or two of snow, sleet, or ice before the final thaw of the season.  But you gotta admit the advance of the seasons is coming to the time of the year that is the favorite of most people.

Spring is the time of renewal, refreshing, and reconnecting.  We paint the back yard fence.  We fix the guttering.  We clean up debris left over from last fall.  And we work in the dirt, plant seeds and seedlings, and think about the summer harvest of strawberries, tomatoes, green beans, and other garden goodies.  We long for the blooming of the roses, daisies, and other assorted flowers and plants.  We break out the barbeque grill, refill the propane bottle, and roast hotdogs over the fire pit.  We sit out in lawn chairs and watch the dusk come, the fireflies light up the air, and the kids play hide and seek.

Birds that we haven’t seen since last summer come back.  Robins, hummingbirds, orioles, and a host of other varieties nest in our trees and help themselves to some of the produce of our flower and vegetable gardens.  Butterflies appear yet again.  The monarchs make their annual migration northward.  The swallows come back as do the bluebirds, purple martins, and woodpeckers.

We also keep an eye to the sky.  For this is the time of colliding air masses, turmoil in the heavens, and scary-looking clouds…some of which give good reason to be concerned.  We rehearse one more time where we will go if the winds threaten, and we listen a little more closely on those days when watches have been issued for the wail of the sirens or the announcements on the TV or radio.  We make sure we have batteries, emergency lights, and other needs.  And we plan at least somewhat accordingly even as we go about the tasks we have scheduled for that day.

Later on in the summer, we go on vacations.  We play softball.  We canoe on the river.  We send the kids to summer camp and enjoy the time without them.  We become more home-bound as the heat cranks up, but we still enjoy the occasional shower or thunderstorm that pops up and, for a time at least, cools the earth and the air.  We find a pool somewhere, in a back yard, at the “Y”, or a public pool, and we cool down and enjoy the rays of a summer sun.

All too quickly, it’s coming to an end.  A cold front moves through and drops the temperatures down to the 50’s.  There’s a chill in the air.  Leaves start to fall from trees.  Birds leave for warmer climates.  Other birds move in to replace them and stay for the coming winter.  The orb spiders spin giant webs at the corner of a house, in the garage door opening, or between a couple of bushes.  The air masses collide yet again, but with less intensity than spring, bringing mostly thunder and rain.

And we repeat the cycle all over again.  For eons this cycle of the seasons has renewed, refreshed, and replenished the earth and all that live upon, above, or in it.  I’ve already seen many more cycles of the seasons than I will experience in the future.  But each one is an adventure.  Each one is different.  Each one reminds me that there is indeed a God that loves and cherishes His creation.  Each one renews my soul.

It Happened

Well, it’s finally happened.  The amaryllis that I kept from last year, put into hibernation, and got back out last fall has finally bloomed.  It’s about two months late, but I guess better late than never.

This is the one that, when it came out of the closet, had just a touch of green at the end of the bulb.  I knew it was a good bulb.  We put it in the window sill, watered it, and cared for it along with a couple other bulbs.  But while the other bulbs were blooming and growing leaves, this one just sat there.  Still green at the end, it did nothing for the longest time.

Finally, after the other bulbs had bloomed and were on their way downhill, the barest of change was happening in this one.  A flowering shoot peeked out of the top of the bulb and grew skyward.  Now that bulb has bloomed in all its glory.

I haven’t a clue why this bulb chose to bide its time and take its own dear sweet time to get to this point.  The other bulbs are long into leaf-growing mode and the flowering shoot has been cut away.  This bulb is a delight and is in and among the daffodils and tulips in announcing the coming arrival of spring.

Of course, there’s a lesson here.  When was the last time you fretted and worried over when an event would take place, the timing of which you couldn’t have changed for all the tea in China?  How often do we expend time and energy trying to move that boulder that just won’t budge?  When will we learn that some things work in their own good time, and not a moment sooner or later?

I couldn’t have changed the timing of the blooming of this amaryllis if my life depended on it.  I couldn’t reach inside the bulb and pull the flowering shoot out by hand.  I was already giving it the best environment it needed to bloom.  It just, for whatever reason, had its own timetable and nothing I could say or do would change that.

Next time you become frustrated because something is happening (or not) that you want to happen at a different time, think of my amaryllis.  It won’t make your “happening” come when you want it to come, but it may just settle you down and enable you to think more clearly, be less stressed, and “stop and smell the roses.”