Lessons from a daisy

She won it in an art contest at school:  a packet of daisy seeds. Disregarding the fact that her mother is an inadvertent plant killer, my daughter was determined to nurture these seeds into full growth. So she followed the directions on how to plant the seeds in a small cup, which she painted to match her studio aesthetic.

She loved these seeds so much, in fact, that when they weren’t getting enough light in her studio, she moved them onto the kitchen window sill, where sunshine abounds. She nurtured them each day, fussing over this little paper cup full of dirt and seeds. How she delighted in watching the tiny sprouts, exclaiming as they grew taller and worrying over them when they appeared to shrivel a bit.

When the time came for us to go away for a week for Spring Break, she was heartbroken, thinking about deserting her seeds. So her father brought them with us, nestled in one of the car’s cupholders. They enjoyed a week at the beach, being carefully placed in the sunniest spot in our rental condo and watered regularly. 

When we returned home, rested and rejuvenated from the beach air, they did as well, ready to be settled back onto their perch on the window sill. Only one early morning, as I was opening the shade in that window – which I do every single morning, and which I had been doing every single morning without incident – the side of my hand, still groggy from sleep, tapped the painted cup. 

In slow motion (it seemed to me), the sprouts took a tumble onto the countertop, the soil going in all directions as I let out a gasp. My daughter was busy getting ready for school, so she didn’t hear me, but I was horrified at what I’d done. Quickly, I gathered some soil in the cup, gingerly placed the sprouts and their roots into the middle of the soil, and swept the rest of the soil all around it. 

It looked good, but time would tell. The other question:  would I tell her? I didn’t tell her before school because I didn’t want to start her day off with bad news, but I did confess it to her later that day. She took it in stride. She knew it was an accident, and she continued to care for her sprouts. To date, they are still looking good, so perhaps my reputation as a destroyer of house plants may not ring true in this case (one can hope).

I thought about how much she loves that cup of seeds, the potential in those seeds. Like you, I’ve read many stories about the possibilities held in such tiny seeds. The potential for beauty, the stirrings of new life. I’ve marveled at how gifted some people are in nurturing plant growth, how lovely it can all be. 

I can still see that ball of soil and sprouts as it took its great fall, and I remember thinking of how sturdy it was even then, how equipped it was to endure that fall with little damage. It was so self-contained, that little ball, so easy to set it to rights. Because it had been lovingly cared for and had a good foundation, it was able to withstand a sleepy ogre of a woman and her clumsy paw knocking it over. 

These last few years, this season of life in which I’ve birthed This Glowing Ember, has been a series of falls from a window sill for this human daisy. The trials come for all of us in this life, and sometimes they last way longer than we think they should. But, like my daughter’s little sprouts, we can withstand these tumbles when we’re firmly planted in the truth of God’s Word. 

James 1:2-6 tells us, Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. 

Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. 

If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you. 

But when you ask, you must believe and not doubt, because the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind.

When we’re walking through the hard, broken things of this world, we often feel tossed about, like a wave that is thrown here and there by the wind. If you’ve ever enjoyed swimming in the ocean, you have likely also had the unpleasant experience of being taken down and dragged under by one of these waves. 

It’s frightening being out of control like that. It’s painful to be dragged across the ocean floor. It’s disorienting when the wave finally lets you go and you drift back into some semblance of safety and peace. You can breathe without gulping in mouthfuls of salty water. It often becomes a great story to share with friends of how you survived nature. You’re grateful to be alive. 

Likewise, we can feel dragged down emotionally, mentally, spiritually, even physically, by the challenges we face. But be encouraged if you’ve taken a tumble or two recently or have been walking through the consequences of a loved one’s tumble. We haven’t been abandoned by our Master Gardener. 

He hasn’t left us at home to die of thirst while He vacations at the beach. He who has come for us, continues to come for us, continues to nurture us through His Word. We are here, showing up each day, doing the hard things, and as we do so, God is working perseverance into us. He’s making us mature and complete. He’s causing us to lack nothing. 

All we have to do is keep believing. Keep digging into His Word, encouraging ourselves with His truth. Keep asking Him for what we need, thanking Him that He is what we really need more than anything. And He offers us Himself generously. 

We are growing, and if we don’t give up, if we stay planted and rooted in God, one day we’ll bloom. Perhaps we already are even now.