Flourish . . .
The amaryllis bulb was an Advent gift: scarlet lilies-in-waiting. Yet this one, the size of my fist, was dirt-less and nearly airless, sheathed in beige wax.
Would it grow?
Forced blooms perform out of season, indoors, often far from their natural habitat. Over the years, I’ve tended potted amaryllis. During months of overcast skies, they suggest Spring will again effervesce.
Within days, the first leaf knifed upward. A green bulge followed atop a stem that eventually separated into four elongated buds at right angles, each one shapely as a calligrapher’s flourish.
Red petals flared, a visual fanfare like living fireworks.
Then . . . a second stem, another quartet of six-pointed stars. It seemed a parable-in-progress: as in, we carry within what we need to blossom.
I lopped off wilt but left the waxy coating intact: one bulb, no water, nothing to feed on — save itself.
A few weeks later, six (6!) additional buds crowned stem number three. That’s rare!
Lately, my heroic bulb — now tamped into soil — is eking out rootlets, launching new leaves.
Sometimes we mortals seem to blossom overnight. We call this a breakthrough. An epiphany. A veil lifts, and fresh insight bowls us over, perhaps via glimpses of mercy, mirth, beauty, or truth. The revelation is quick.
We use the word “quickening” to describe that first stirring of the fetus curled in the womb. In a moment, life ignites. As with plants, so with people: verve generates roots and blooms.
But then come the gradual, wearing forces of heartbreak, soul erosion, physical breakdown. What then?
We may feel deprived, perhaps curtailed as my holiday bulb. Yet hope beckons. We learn new ways to weather impediments, outlast their strictures. A season of imposed limitations can also evoke unexpected creativity, break us open in glorious ways.
Will we also store up strength for the future?
My amaryllis bulb must endure being sidelined, for months, to flower again — some fortitude required.
Writer Mark Nepo says, “We are worn to who we are meant to be.”
Not born, but worn. Our personal growth curve benefits from subtractions as well as additions. The old equation holds: he must increase, but I must decrease. No fanfare. No fireworks. Thus, are we conformed to Christ.
This is one way we begin to behold — in ourselves, in our world, and in one another — what is tender and vibrant, if also fleeting.
Eternally drawn through seasons of rest and nourishing grace, we flourish anew.
Lord of Life, you never force us. Instead, you equip us, then coax us to show forth your colors. Remind us you’re still at work—even when nothing remotely green seems to be rising.
Friends, where are you in the cycle: Newly abloom? Temporarily shelved? Somewhere in between?
What is the invitation? Where are you feeling stifled? Is it time for a small fanfare?
*
Photo by Vincenzo Tabaglio on Unsplash
Heartening to read your commentary here on the amaryllis. “During months of overcast skies, they suggest Spring will again effervesce.”
And I’m encouraged by, “we carry within what we need to blossom.”
I’m going to carry these thoughts with me during this season. Thank you.
Dear Bethany, so great to hear from you!
Thanks for that specificity. I need to circle back to those reminders, too—especially on a gray Monday. I’m glad they landed gently with you. May they take root and bear fruit over the coming months, my friend!
Oh, I receive that. Thank *you*, my friend!
Bethany, I bought a second bulb a few weeks ago, this one sealed in wax the color of honey ‘n cream. Every day I savor the changes I see. The stem is now almost a foot high and I think the bud may open this weekend—pure white, this time around. I will think and send on my good wishes for you every time I savor its beautiful alterations . . .
Oh dear Laurie, this is such a balm to my soul; each word resonates so deeply. Where am I in the blooming process? (with my attending heartmates close by)? Well, after months of waiting and watching, a blossom has appeared overnight. Preceded by an epiphany, dare I say?
It is such a privilege to see something beautiful come into bloom.
Rejoicing with you, my friend! And saluting the faithful waiting and watching that prayerfully lays the groundwork for new life! It seems a little like reflected glimmers of Nativity, Epiphany, and Easter in motion in those we love . . .
So so happy for you and your dear ones!
Laurie, your amaryllis allegory fits our current situation perfectly. Thank you for this encouragement! I do feel temporarily shelved as we’ve had to change churches. But we’re trusting that God will provide new opportunities to bloom where he’s planted us. Nothing green has manifested itself yet, but just as you’ve said, God is ALWAYS at work. Such wonderful reassurance during this in between time.
Oh, goodness, what a sea change! There must be many tugs on your hearts and minds at this time. An established history of place and doings and relationships, and now the unknown.
So grateful you found some encouragement here.
I learned a new word last week that fits: From now on, I am holding you two in mind and heart for serenity and serendipity in this time of “betweenity.”
May the green spring rise . . .
Inbetweenity–what a marvelous and appropriate word! Even since I wrote this comment to you a month ago, we are feeling less discomfort and awkwardness. We’ve met some delightful people already. My husband is joining a men’s summer Bible study, and I’m joining a women’s. By July we ought to feel even more connected. Thank you, dear friend, for your concern on our behalf and your prayers!
Oh, that is the BEST news! It makes my day.
I don’t know about you two, but we find starting over (or even mustering courage for a new social setting) seems to take more energy and resolve than it did in younger days with kids in tow, and those swift connections that spring up between fellow parents.
Bravo, courageous ones! May the study groups be life giving as well as open to the life you each bring. Amen!
Beige wax. I can relate. One of the best things about knowing the Lord is knowledge that we are more than what looks to be a root in beige wax.
Beige: It seems like a color that hasn’t quite declared itself.
Yet.
Although in some tints I admire it . . . warm, unassuming.
And it’s mildly pleasant on the tongue when I say it. As is greige. I just looked at paint chips. Also learned it’s the hardest color for a printer to reproduce accurately. Can you tell I’m procrastinating on a project? HAR.
But yes yes yes to the quiet potential of indwelling presence!!
Some of your best work Ms. Klein! Speaking of worn, I won’t send a photo of my right index finger … Cheers!!
John, thank you! And? Now you’ve got me worried. An artistan needs the pointer finger — plus I’m guessing that’s your dominant hand? So sorry to hear about this extended timeout. May it profit you in unexpected ways.
Bet that injury also cramps your workouts . . .
Praying for swift recovery and, en route, good books and reasons to laugh out loud along the way . . .
I just had my 64th birthday.
64!?
Like, what the heck!
I’ve always thought, “there’s time.”
This birthday has brought the thoughts I’ve never really considered with such clear sounding, “Not as much time as you once had, bucko!”
A place I find myself daily reminded, with a weight unexpexted and not wanting to bear.
This message today from my favourite “scribe” is a welcomed announcement….
“We carry within what we need to blossom.”
And, “We are worn to who we are meant to be.”
Two scriptures come to mind in closing,
Psalm 92:13-14
“Those who are planted in the house of the Lord
Shall flourish in the courts of our God.
They shall still bear fruit in old age;
They shall be fresh and flourishing…”
Isaiah 46:4
Even to your old age, I am He,
And even to gray hairs I will carry you!
I have made, and I will bear;
Even I will carry, and will deliver you.
Happy Birthday, Rick!
And thank you. I am so grateful to read those verses today — for me, lines that have been highlighted several times in the Book. They encourage me every time.
May every year remaining be lived to the Max!
And for fun, here’s a “worn” and silvered Paul teamed up with Julian Lennon singing . . .
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gzeOuQrbYqE
That’s funny.
I purposely didn’t listen to that song on my birthday.
Couple friends did mention it.
Guess I needed time.
Your version sent was the right time.
Thank you.
Dear Rick,
I get it.
I’m relieved the link may have(?) brought a smile . . .
Wishing you a blessed year of joy and health and fruitful service!
All good.
Be.
r