Daffodils

The day was beautiful, a slightly crisp Fall day and I was in the garden to plant daffodils. Every time I moved, the soreness in my body was a reminder of my ex-husbands abuse the night before, so the warmth of the sun on my back felt nice. As I dug and planted, my thoughts began to tumble. I tried not to think of my marriage and the numbing pain I experienced there. Instead, I found myself thinking about the Church I had started to attend. For some reason, in that place, I could sit there and breathe.. deeply. I had been living so tightly wound I did not realize I was tense until I would get up to go home. It was then my chest would tighten and it got difficult to breath. I had only been attending the Church a little while now, but I knew the message. But knowing the message is different from believing it. 
So, in that warm sun, as I dug and planted, I sorted through it all and tried to put my mind around some of what I had been taught. I had seen enough of life to realize we are all sinners. I could even handle the virgin birth. I figured if God could create the stars, then a virgin getting with child probably was no big deal. The message of Jesus was very appealing, and the way He treated women touched my heart. All the healing and miracles I decided were believable.. even raising Lazarus from the dead. After all, I reasoned, He was God here on Earth. My thoughts then turned to those last days. It hurt to think that His beating and sacrificed life were for me. I sure didn’t deserve anything close to that. But the resurrection… that was something else. 
There I hung. It seemed so easy, yet I had believed in other things that ending up hurting me. I was not to be taken again. As much as I wanted to trust, what if this Jesus was like most of the men I had encountered.. and it was nothing but a lie. With a sigh I dug another hole. I head a voice ask me “What are you doing?” The voice was not audible, but something deep within. My natural sarcasm was thinking ‘duh, what’s it look like’.. but my spirit responded “I’m planting daffodils” 
“Why?” 
“Because I enjoy the flowers in the Spring.” 
“That thing looks dead?” 
“It isn’t.” 
“You sure?” 
“Yes.. the moisture in the ground will trigger the roots to grow. It will send those roots down until the warmth of Spring comes.. where it will come out of the ground and bloom.” 
“And how do you know that?” 
“Because that is what the other daffodil bulbs do. Every Spring I see them. Every place I plant one, a flower comes up.” 
By now I subconsciously know I am talking to the Lord.. so, I’m getting aggravated that a know all being is asking so many questions. I figure He designed the silly things, He, of all things, should know how they work. 
“So, because you have seen other daffodil blooms, you have faith to believe the one you now hold will produce a bloom as well.” 
“Yes.” 
“Is it so hard then to have faith I can raise Jesus. You believe I rose Lazerus from the dead. Believe also I rose Jesus from the dead. My Son is no different than that daffodil bulb. Just like the bulb, He lived and grew. Then the season came to an end. The bulb withered and Jesus was crucified. By all outward appearances they both look dead. But what you see is not what is. Just like the bulb, when place in the Earth He came to life. You do not have to understand it to believe it. Look at the wonders around you. Do you think that death can defy me?” 
Wow. It made sense. And it was so simple. As I put the bulb in the hole and filled it with dirt, a warmth and peace descended.. and I began to hope.
Advertisements
Published on January 28, 2009 at 5:58 pm  Leave a Comment  

The URI to TrackBack this entry is: https://comfortsofhome.wordpress.com/the-road-less-traveled/daffodils/trackback/

RSS feed for comments on this post.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: