Over a year ago, I wrote a poem I entitled "Flourish." I wrote it in the dead of winter, when a resident at the maternity home chose to leave the safety and shelter of that beautiful place. Those of us who had spent countless hours, and prayed countless prayers, on her behalf watched in discouragement when she chose to leave a soft bed, three meals a day, daily time in the Word for a day-by-day existence. We helped her gather her things in trash bags. I'll never forget dragging them into a hotel room, praying for her and her baby one last time, and saying goodbye.
You can't make someone flourish if they don't want to.
This poem was about her and how, weeks prior, this resident - our first in that home - had planted a day lily in the front of the house. Only a bulb and some greenery at the time, we didn't know what color it was going to be. But digging in the dirt is healing for those with pasts like hers, and so I encouraged the house staff to allow her that opportunity.
An opportunity to plant something. To see something hidden in the dark and the dirt, but with so much potential. To be about the business of tending something other than herself. To try to see past today to what could be tomorrow.
That bulb was still in the ground, waiting, when she chose to leave before Christmas. And when one winter night, I watched snowflakes swirling, I wrote a poem about her flower...
I kept thinking about it, there in the ground during all these seasons - winter, spring, summer. I have surprised myself about how many times I have thought about this silly flower, wondering and waiting.
It was waiting for this week to bloom.
It's a red so dark it's almost purple. A maroon you get lost in. It's moody, a lot like her. It's beautiful in a way that is strong and sure, yet almost too beautiful to be true - not unlike the verse that tells us the truth that "The grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of our God endures forever" (Isaiah 40:8). Her time with us was so brief, and yet her baby boy has been born and is healthy because of this home. And for that, I rejoice. The Lord, through this home, did what He wanted. For that, I praise Him.
How would you define flourishing? I find myself wishing she could have been like one of the residents the home has now - thriving, staying, roots going ever deeper down into safe soil, being planted by streams of Living Water (Psalm 1). But even though she didn't get to stay the length of the program, the seeds planted during her stay are now blooming. We were faithful to plant them. And I praise the Lord today to see His harvest!
Never stop planting,
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