When my mom passed away in late November 1993, I remember feeling lost and hopeless. I missed her so much it was overwhelming. We were very close. Although we lived four hours away, we spoke daily, often more than once. My children were young, and I leaned on her for support and encouragement. She had become my best friend. I loved sharing every new adventure with her as the girls grew. She knew the entire goings-on in my life, from lost baby teeth to skinned toddler knees. Losing her was devastating to me and left a huge hole in my life.

 A few weeks after the funeral, a neighbor came across the street carrying a flowerpot with half a dozen flower bulbs. She had ordered too many to use and wondered if I would like them. I had never had much of a green thumb, but the idea of planting something and watching it grow into something beautiful seemed very therapeutic. I spent quite a few hours playing in my flowerbed that weekend. The weather was beautiful, and the fresh air and sunshine helped to remind me although I missed my mother terribly. I had to try harder to find the sunshine through the rain. When I told my father I had planted the bulbs he laughed. He said he had tried many times to grow Daffodils and Tulips but had never been successful. He wished me the best of luck.

Time went by. The end of fall came, winter came and went, and then finally the early days of spring arrived. I noticed my Daffodils coming up and got very excited. I watched as they grew and flowered into the brightest, happiest little yellow flowers I’d ever seen. They looked like small pieces of sunshine blooming just to brighten my day. They reminded me of my mom but in a happy way. I called my dad to brag a bit. He was amused at my success and asked me how the tulips were coming along. I told him I didn’t see any blooms yet, but they were still growing. Again, he wished me luck.

 A few weeks later, I had three beautiful tulips. I knew the flowers wouldn’t last long, as the wind often comes up quickly in the desert, especially in the spring. So I could “record” my success, I grabbed the disposable camera I kept in my car. I shot a couple of pictures of my “perfect” tulips and put the camera back in my car. I was going to tease my dad with the pictures when I got the chance.

Sadly, the next day, I got one of those phone calls that none of us ever want to receive. My dad was in the hospital. He had suffered a severe heart attack. I hurriedly packed a suitcase and hit the road for San Diego. It had only been six short months since my mother had passed away. I couldn’t believe this was happening again.

Thanks to an exceptional hospital staff, my dad survived the night. We spent many hours at the hospital that week visiting with him until he was able to go home. It was a scary few days. On one of those mornings, I brought with me the pictures I had gotten developed from that little disposable camera. I showed him my beautiful tulips that had bloomed so brilliantly in my flowerbed just days before. He was very impressed. But best of all he thought it funny that I had taken the time to take the pictures just so that I could tease him. His smile was worth my very small effort.

We stayed with my dad for about a week after our scare and then drove back home to the high desert. When we pulled into the driveway, the first thing I looked for was my tulips. To my disappointment, they were completely gone. In one short week, they had come and gone. The wind had destroyed every pedal, and now only the stems remained.

It’s incredible how something as simple as a tulip can be significant. When our joy seems to be buried deep below the surface, sometimes spring can take us by surprise. When the long, cold, desolate winter overtakes us, and everything seems dark, frozen, and brittle, often we forget that God is working below the surface to grow something beautiful. We need to hold on because spring will come. And when spring does come we need to welcome it with open arms and appreciate its beauty. The last thing we want to do is miss it.

Daffodils and Tulips will always remind me of my mom and dad, daffodils for my mom and tulips for my dad. I plant them every fall, wherever I happen to be. To some, they may be just another pretty flower. But to me, they are a reminder never to give up hope. God is always with me, working in my life, even in the bitterest of winters.

 To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven.
–Ecclesiastes 3:1

 Wishing you joy and peace,

 Lorrie