Wednesday, September 29, 2010

fall blooms

I've been having a hard time of it lately. I still have no job, and all the open doors seem to be coming to naught. I have no leads on anything substantial, and I'm searching job postings daily for something that feels like it could be a fit. So far, nothing, except fear and anxiety.

Add to that the death of a friend last week.

And more, my dad's cancer is back. The news at this point is "not good" and I think the diagnosis we're waiting on may be an expected time frame.

The depression that I held at bay all summer long is creeping back in. No, not creeping. Stomping its feet and roaring.

A couple of days ago, I noticed that one of my spider lilies is about to bloom. I replanted these bulbs years ago, and I think they've only bloomed once since then. I know they didn't bloom last year, so this summer I was extra careful to water that spot, hoping to revive the sleeping bulbs. The flowers typically bloom in late summer, so I knew I would have to wait until September to see the results of my labor.

I began to grow disheartened when, driving around town, I saw spider lilies thriving in other yards. Dozens of deep red blooms, beautiful. I was a little envious, and I was bummed.

But then, there it was. My one little bloom. It wasn't quite what I'd hoped for, but at least I knew the bulbs were still alive.

Today, while taking out the recycling, I checked on that lone flower. It's coming along pretty well, and that made me smile. But then, as I poked around, I noticed another shoot pushing its way through the dirt. Then another, then another. There are a total of about 4 or 5 flowers where last year there was nothing. The bed was quite dry, so in order to encourage their progress, I watered the ground again thoroughly, soaking it.

Hope, like flowers, needs to be watered and tended.

And so today I have watered my hope with tears and prayers and songs and words. I will be back on the phone, calling more university presses to see if they hire freelance copyeditors. That is today, and all I can do is what needs to be done today.

And maybe, just maybe, something beautiful will spring from this dry ground.


andreajennine said...

I'm sorry for that maelstrom of hard circumstances. When it feels like hope just sets me up for disappointment, I have to remind myself that, in Jesus, "hope does not put us to shame" (Rom. 5).

Angela said...

Yes, flowers have magical healing powers, don't they?