Unexpected Daffodils

An amazing thing, well actually some amazing things showed up in our daffodil bed this evening.About a week ago I wrote an article concerning the one solitary daffodil that has managed to bloom year after year. It was my way of dealing with both, disappointment in only one bloom and rejoicing in the wonder of one bloom. This evening, having returned from an afternoon celebration of our granddaughter's fourth birthday at her Dad's home in Red Bud, I happened to look out the front door of our home at the daffodil, still in beautiful full bloom. Yet, much to my surprise, there in the circle of previously 'bloomless' daffodil plants, were a half dozen beautiful, somewhat smaller daffodil blooms proudly pushing their yellow blossoms skyward.

Calling for Nancy to join me in inspecting the newest and most unexpected blooms in the circle, we hurried down the walk towards the daffodils. They were beautiful, delicate in size and intense in color, yet lighter in shade than the solitary daffodil which had once stood stoically amidst the green of daffodil plants. Now, surrounded by friends, our solitary daffodil seemed more stately, more proud, more full of color and strength . . . and Nancy and I marveled at how quickly the new blooms had appeared.

Then, reality set in: No wonder they were shorter, more delicate, and a lighter tinge of yellow . . . they are silk! Someone had taken pity on our solitary daffodil and gave it some friends, filling out the 'circle of life' with the modern day wonder of 'the kind of flowers that even Pastor Don could grow'. Silk. Nancy and I looked at them and laughed, grateful that someone trusted our sense of humor with a wonderful addition to our flower bed and humbled that someone thought enough of both our flower bed and my previous article concerning the daffodil that they took the time and effort necessary to purchase and 'plant' the companion daffodils. They are, to say the least, a generous gift of levity in a world mired down far to deeply in things which are not helpful. Silk daffodils could well save the day, if only we would listen to the message they offer.

We've decided to let them, planted as they are, in the circle of daffodils around our lamp post along the front walk. Maybe they will surprise others, even as they surprised Nancy and me. Still, even if no one else notices, we have noticed and they have made all the difference, both in our hearts and to our solitary daffodil who now has some friends, quiet though they may be. Tonight Nancy and I will go to bed cherishing the thought of our daffodil benefactor, for in the simple act of good humor and ingenious horticultural skill, you have reminded us there is a wider community of those who need not every answer or skill, but willingly and lovingly share the journey, wryly smiling where common sense leaves off and wonder takes over. Thank you.

Of Daffodils and Disappointments

We are so disappointed. When we moved to Lebanon in August of 1993 we were delighted in the following Spring to discover a circle of daffodils around the light pole along the front walk . . . but only one bloom. "Odd", we thought, "but we'll give them a chance and thin and fertilize them." Each year since, the ring of daffodil plants proudly circles the light post and each year the same singular plant blooms. Late last Summer, Nancy and I really worked over that bed of daffodils, loosening up the soil, separating bulbs, and fertilizing the area, all in the hopes of inspiring something new to happen. This Spring . . . a circle of plants and one bloom. We are so disappointed.

I have heard it said the definition of insanity is, "Doing the same thing over and over again, each time expecting different results." So, maybe Nancy and I have been living proof of the insanity with which we live every day, I'm not sure yet, neither am I sure what our next steps will be.

I am not enough of a horticulturalist to know if there is any chance that the other daffodils will ever bloom, regardless of how much we work with them, separate them or fertilize them. Still, I look at the daffodils and wonder about the one and think about Jesus and the ten lepers: He healed ten, but only one returned to give thanks. Only one really bloomed. The other nine were healed, yet missed the opportunity to blossom in their new life. Notably, Jesus did not remove the healing of the other nine, but commended the one who came back. Jesus celebrated the beauty of the one who burst forth in raucous color.

Were Nancy and I to dig up the circle of daffodils plants in order to re-plant new bulbs which would bloom, it would be likely that the one which has been blooming all these years would be lost along with the others. So, what are the implications of that decision? Is the one who faithfully returns each year in full and vibrant bloom, the one which has been giving thanks for the opportunity to reflect the sunlight of God's care, to be considered collateral damage for the sake of making the whole of the daffodil bed more productive? Yet, if we do not make a change, there they will be for eternity . . . a whole congregation of daffodils circling the 'T' shaped light post looking pretty in the Sunday breezes, while only one ever blooms.

It's kind of like the church, isn't it? Which pierces my soul when I ponder on the fact that my fervent prayer is that God remembers me even, maybe especially, when I do not bloom regularly or well. What to do about the daffodils . . . I'm not sure. But, for today and all of the other days in which that one daffodil blooms, I'm going to savor the color, the wonder, the majesty of that one which blooms each year. I'm going to remember it and love it for the gift it has become in my heart. For, truth be told, that is exactly what I pray God does with me.