Lessons from a Window Sill

I kill plants.  Actually, I can’t keep plants OR fish alive.  The one fish that I kept alive for more than a week grew a tumor in his cheek and lasted for about a month –  his name was Lucky.  Anyhow, green thumbs run through my family, as well as my husband’s.  I, however, did not acquire this gift.

So there was great trepidation when, about 5 years ago, my husband’s grandmother offered me one of  her beautiful bright pink and white amaryllis bulbs.  Her flowers were stunning, and I couldn’t help but exclaim how gorgeous they were.  She motioned for me to take one of her prized bulbs home to grow for myself.  And I blinked.  I desperately wanted to be able to do as she said.  But even my very supportive husband looked at me with wide eyes that said, “Michelle, I've seen you kill a sago palm and you’re going to take home one of Grandma’s flowers?”  We both knew that the chances for this poor, unassuming brown seed were slim.  I even warned her of my bad luck with plants, but it didn’t faze her.  I took it home, and I researched everything there was to know about amaryllis.  I put it in my kitchen window, the only place where it would have a remote chance of me remembering to water it, and I took care of that bulb.

I remember getting so excited when the first bright green sprout pushed its way out of the soft dirt.  It was so full of promise.  It grew so quickly, and by the end of the month, I had a very tall, skinny…leaf.  “Maybe more leaves and flowers will come?” I thought.  So I kept watering, and that single leaf grew until it was over a foot long.  For months that leaf lasted, and then, one day, I accidentally overwatered it, it turned yellow and, quite dramatically, it flopped over and died.  Sad is really not the right word for what I felt. 

The next year, it came back.  That one solitary leaf.  Again, I cared for it for months, determined not to overwater it, and then one day, I broke the leaf when moving the pot on my windowsill.

So Year 3, I figured I would try one last time.  But this year, TWO leaves popped up.  I was going to get a flower this year!  

Nope.  Two leaves.

Year 4?  TWO. LEAVES.

This year is Year 5.  Y'all, this year, I have THREE leaves.  “Ohhhhhh, Lord.  This is going to be the pattern?  A new leaf every 2 years?” I immediately Googled to see images of amaryllis – every picture I looked at has at least 5 leaves.  At this rate, I still may not have any type of flower to look at for a decade after receiving this plant.  I just want a pretty flower, and to prove that I can grow it myself.  But it isn’t happening. (Update -- it is now a 2 ¾ leaf plant because my husband was trying to kill a really pesky fly last night, and he accidentally took a chunk of leaf with it when he took a swing.  I unapologetically glared at him.)

Isn’t that like the Lord to work in our lives differently than we expect and hope and ask for?  “Lord, I just want X.”  “What do I need to do to get X?  Pray?  Behave?  Do good?  Humble myself?  Say this?  Not say this? Do this?  Not do this?”  I expect that if I hit on the right combination, there should be a good outcome, or at least, my idea of a good outcome.

Year 1 -- “Lord, I am doing everything I am supposed to.”  “But are you, My Child?”

Year 2 -- “Oops, Lord, I really messed up.” “Grace, My Child.”

Year 3 -- “Lord, I am trying again.  (I mean, check out that perseverance, Lord.)” [He smiles.]

Year 4 – “Lord, I’m still trying.  Tell me what to do.” [Still smiling.] “You’re not saying anything, Lord.”

Year 5 – “Lord, my planning isn’t making anything happen!  And this could literally take a decade!  Or two!” “My daughter, you know that trying and striving and working and busying yourself with ‘steps’ isn’t the key, right?”  [Silence]    [Then crying.]    [Then yelling.]          

I honestly don’t know if I will ever see an amaryllis in that pot.  I really do hope to at this point.  But in that limbo, my heart has quieted down.  There is not a magic formula, at least when it comes to ME successfully growing this flower.  I love a formula that works.  A + B should always equal C, right?  After continuously trying to make that work, I can tell you, NOT SO.

There are so many areas of my life where this has shown up, where formulas fail.  Right now, we are waiting on a liver & kidney transplant for my father-in-law who has been acutely ill for 2 years.  Our family is working through reconciliation in a relationship right now that has been a bit of a roller coaster.  A few years ago, we suffered a miscarriage and lost a little one.  We have walked through seasons of financial struggle. We are currently waiting for other answers.  Waiting, waiting, waiting.  My life is in flux, but yet…I am always waiting. As the “planner” of my family, I like to know timing, to be prepared, so that I can have some control and see success.  Waiting around all the time doesn’t allow me to do…well, any of that.

One of my favorite passages of Scripture is in Lamentations 3:22-24 -

“The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.  

‘The Lord is my portion,’ says my soul, ‘therefore I will hope in him.”  

Notice it doesn’t say, “I am my own portion, therefore I will hope/strive/trust in myself.”  I will hope in HIM.

When you wait through struggle, there is hope.  

When you wait for healing, there is hope.

When you wait for an answer, there is hope.  

When you wait for renewal, there is hope.
When you wait for a break, there is hope.

When you wait for a season to change...hope.

Job 12:10 says it like this --

“In his hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all mankind.”  

Our God is good, He is faithful, and we are in His hands.  Always.  I have seen it and I know it to be true.

Psalm 13 begins,

“How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?  How long will you hide your face from me?”  

It is so tempting to think he has forgotten us.  Because we can’t hear him or see movement.  We can’t see the specific “blessing” or result that we requested.  But after calling out to the Lord, David remembers, 

“But I have trusted in your steadfast love; my heart shall rejoice in your SALVATION.  

I will sing to the Lord, because he has dealt bountifully with me.”  

Even if the “only” thing he has ever done for me is to send His Son to lay down His very life for me, he has dealt bountifully with me through the salvation He so freely gives me. And we all know, that isn’t even close to the only thing He has done for us.  His mercies abound every day, His grace gives us grace to pass on, His strength upholds us, and His love enfolds us and flows through us.  

Bounty denotes abundance, harvest, gifts, plenty, generosity, and thankfully that abundance and generosity is in His nature.  We can trust in His steadfast love and rejoice in our salvation.  My life, my very breath, is in his hands.  Even if all I ever see in that pot sitting on the window sill is three long, skinny leaves, it reminds me that there is hope and He is faithful, for he has dealt bountifully with me.