"Do now, do now, what you will wish to have done when your moment comes to die." [St. Angela Merici]

Wednesday, March 16, 2016

Here’s to the Little Engine that Could—and Does



By Micky Wolf
It grew the first time during the past Christmas Season. Three lovely blooms. On the small side, but pleasing to the eye.

Several weeks later, when the amaryllis had expended all energy and was going dormant, we put it on an out-of-the-way shelf in the shadows in a corner of our garage. And forgot about it.

Looking for something one morning, we both noticed small, green shoots so decided to bring it inside. Along with the occasional watering, it went about its business of growing.

Until the recent developments.

“Come here!” It was my beloved, staring at the brown container on the table in front of the big, picture window. “Have you seen this thing—it’s huge!”

Four incredible blooms. And doggone it, if not the tallest amaryllis we had ever seen. Ever. And we’ve tended more than a few over the years.

It’s not unusual for these plants to produce blossoms twice in a short period of time. 

However, what we found unique about this bulb was that the second show of color outdid the first in every way—more blooms, larger blooms, taller stalk.

Not unlike some people I know.

I’ve shared in previous posts of a close family member who seems in a constant struggle—not only to make ends meet, but to find the ends in the first place. It’s heartbreaking to watch at times, even in the awareness my beloved and I do what we can within our means and resources to help.

And yet, with each glancing blow to the psyche, each drain on an already weary body, each challenge to clear thinking and wise decision-making, this individual inches along, doing their best to at least hold the present ground. And in the midst of it, clinging to a thin thread of belief, that in spite of what seem insurmountable odds, life will get better.

For this person, a journey not unlike…the tall blooming beauty that could—and does.

Beset by the darkness, slogging through the shadows. Up hills, through the valleys.

The little engine.

The amazing amaryllis.

You.

Me.

Someone we know and love.

If our Good and Gracious God can stir, nurture, and renew life within the core of an unimpressive looking tuber nestled in the dirt, can we not cease to believe and trust He will do the same for any of us?

As for the timing of this lovely gift of nature? No accident.

Made me smile. Gave me hope. Lifted our spirits.


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