Over the long winter, when it was dark and cold, and I’d be working at my dining room table in the evenings, I’d think about the tulips that were planted outside in the frigidness. It seemed impossible that anything that was out there wasn’t completely dead (which is why I am a little shocked that mosquitos consistently reappear in spring too).
The weather was so harsh, it seemed out of the realm of what could happen, that a bulb that was stuck out there in the wind and snow would actually sprout and bloom.
Except I had hope that they would.
See, this wasn’t the first time I had planted tulips. And after we moved into this house one fall, there were tulips that showed up the following spring that I hadn’t planted…these delightful little surprises that suddenly said hello. I’d seen the “impossible” happen before.
And it happened again this year:
I love these tulips.
Even more than I love these tulips, I love the anticipation of them coming when it seemed so impossible that they would show up. I love that these little guys could stand the incredible cold and hung in there to grow now. I love that they are tenacious, they handled some pretty stiff frosts after they sprouted, and they kept growing. I like that they proved me right…I wanted to believe they would show up and they did.
The “showing up” of these tulips reminds me of clients that I work with that wonder if they will ever feel better, if the bad memories will ever stop emerging, or if the losses will ever stop happening in their lives. It can seem impossibly dark.
But we work. We work in faith, believing that there is something waiting under the darkness and will emerge to bloom. And wow, when it happens, it is a holy thing to witness.
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