Waiting is agonizing. It tests your patience and your faith. Time moves in slow-motion.
Fifteen years ago God planted in my heart a dream. It’s hard to believe it has been that long, simmering just under the surface, waiting. Now, having more time as a stay-at-home mom, my dream is so close I can taste it.
Jonquils in January
Last week, our Arkansas climate gave us a warm-up after what has been an uncharacteristically chilly winter. I relished walking outside, enjoying the warm temps, observing nature, dreaming of my garden.
What was most clear, however, was the lack of green. Everything except the evergreen pine trees and the winter weeds was dead. Trees were bare; grass was brown. Every part of my being sensed a yearning for spring and summer! For growth!
I found myself walking over to where I had planted jonquils two years ago. My mom had told me to look to see if my jonquils were coming up. It’s January. Surely not, I thought.
Mama knows best, and sure enough, peeking out of the ground was one cluster of one-inch tall Jonquil leaves. I was perplexed. When everything else in my yard knows it is still winter, what prompts jonquils to begin growing?
As I wrote about here, I have felt a clear leading of God to Cease to Strive this year in regard to my dream. The main purpose, I believe, is to be fully present and invested in my children in this season. God keeps confirming that in subtle ways.
For example, presently my husband is working a lot and we only see him about an hour per day at most. Under normal circumstances, this would completely stress me out. I’m a controller who defaults to managing my children under stressful situations instead of loving, guiding, the serving them. I become a mean mama at times.
But this time it has been different. It’s almost as if God has given me a supernatural love for my children. He has given me new eyes with which to see them. A few nights ago at bath time we spent quite a bit of time talking about their red hair, their eye color, and dominant and recessive genes. I know, that seems silly, but it was a conversation we all thoroughly enjoyed.
My heart is more full than it has ever been with enjoying my children. I could chalk it up to my first idea that age 8 and 4 are the most blissful ages ever. But it goes beyond that.
They’re Your Jonquils
That night as I was falling asleep thinking of my children and how grateful I was, God brought to mind a picture of that Jonquil sprout. They’re your Jonquils.
Suddenly it became so clear. If I walk outside in the dreariness and brownness of winter and all I can dream of is summer, I would miss the jonquils. The flowers themselves bloom so beautifully before most plants have broken their dormancy.
And by the time the other plants catch up to spring, the beauty of the jonquils has faded.
My children are my jonquils. Summer is my dream. If I’m not careful, I’ll be wishing myself to summer, and when summer comes, I will have missed the beauty of my little jonquils.
Sure, they’ll always be there, but they will be different. The youthful innocence and precious moments will have passed me by, all because I couldn’t get my eyes off my longing for summer.
Summer Will Arrive…But Until Then
My summer will come. The dreams that God planted inside my heart will come to pass in some form (perhaps not what I envision them to be). But I can’t miss my jonquils. They’ll only be growing and blooming under my care for a season.
So my heart and mind have shifted focus. Instead of the lack of growth in my dream, my eyes are on my jonquils, in all their fleeting beauty.
What about you? Are you in a season of waiting? What jonquils might you be missing that are present right now?