Next Season's Blossom
A few years ago, when we moved into our house, my mother-in-law offered us some iris plants from her yard. I'd never grown irises, but I was excited to have something new blooming in our garden! I planted them all around our tulip tree in the front yard and waited with anticipation to see them grow.
The following spring, just as predicted, tiny green shoots began to appear just after the last snowfall. I watched eagerly day after day as the plants grew taller and taller. They were long and thin and a beautiful dark green. I couldn't wait to see their flowers!
But the blossoms never came.
Discouraged, I chalked it up to inexperience. Next year, I thought, I'll do my homework and really grow gorgeous iris plants.
Sometime mid-summer, when the shoots of leaves were over a foot tall and failing to produce flowers, flopping around our tulip tree, I cut them down. What a waste, I grumbled. What an ugly disappointment.
At the end of summer, something unusual happened. Tall, light green stems began to grow out of the ground. Beautiful pink lily-like flowers emerged. I had seen them pop up here and there at other houses, but I never knew whether they grew wild or were somehow planted deep in the earth, appearing suddenly in late summer. I let them bloom and then turned my mind again to next season's irises.
The following spring, once more, the tiny green shoots of promise started to poke out of the ground. This year I was ready. I would make sure they had plenty of sunshine, plenty of water, plenty of everything they needed. I watched with anticipation as they grew taller and taller, waiting for the day I would finally spot the blooms.
But, again, they never came.
Once more, I let them grow throughout the summer, hoping against hope that they'd produce something beautiful. Once more, by mid-summer when they'd begun to wilt and die away, I cut them down. Another year lost. Why couldn't I grow irises?
And then, come late summer, those little pale stems began once more to grow. Taller and taller, fanning out into a cacophony of delicate pink flowers. Only this year I noticed they weren't growing wild or randomly. They were growing in exactly the places I had planted irises.
I had planted resurrection lilies.
Each year since then, we repeat the cycle. And each year when we reach the middle of August, the pink resurrection lilies on full display, I laugh a little to myself. I must be the only person in the world who plants irises only to grow lilies! But then I stop because these flowers, of all the flowers in my garden, always make me think.
In so many seasons of my life I've planted irises. I've tended my tiny plans, watered them, nurtured them, convinced that they would reap a specific result. And I've been disappointed. What looked like growth never seemed to amount to much. What I had hoped to see never came to fruition. Finally, in frustration, I cut the whole plant down to its roots. What a waste. What a disappointment.
But once in a while, in a different season, I've been surprised to find tiny green stems begin to peek through the ground. They emerge slowly, growing taller and taller. Sometimes, as it turns out, they look nothing like what I planted. And yet they're beautiful.
And each year it makes me wonder: how many plants am I tending in my life that won't produce flowers until much later? How many things am I nurturing and dreaming about that will, in the end, look nothing like the outcome I anticipate now?
Don't be discouraged, friend. If your garden or your life look nothing like you anticipated, don't give up hope. It could be your blooms will come later. Or it could be that what you're growing right now is nothing less than a resurrection lily in the place where an iris was intended. Let it grow: it will be beautiful in its own right.
The following spring, just as predicted, tiny green shoots began to appear just after the last snowfall. I watched eagerly day after day as the plants grew taller and taller. They were long and thin and a beautiful dark green. I couldn't wait to see their flowers!
But the blossoms never came.
Discouraged, I chalked it up to inexperience. Next year, I thought, I'll do my homework and really grow gorgeous iris plants.
Sometime mid-summer, when the shoots of leaves were over a foot tall and failing to produce flowers, flopping around our tulip tree, I cut them down. What a waste, I grumbled. What an ugly disappointment.
At the end of summer, something unusual happened. Tall, light green stems began to grow out of the ground. Beautiful pink lily-like flowers emerged. I had seen them pop up here and there at other houses, but I never knew whether they grew wild or were somehow planted deep in the earth, appearing suddenly in late summer. I let them bloom and then turned my mind again to next season's irises.
The following spring, once more, the tiny green shoots of promise started to poke out of the ground. This year I was ready. I would make sure they had plenty of sunshine, plenty of water, plenty of everything they needed. I watched with anticipation as they grew taller and taller, waiting for the day I would finally spot the blooms.
But, again, they never came.
Once more, I let them grow throughout the summer, hoping against hope that they'd produce something beautiful. Once more, by mid-summer when they'd begun to wilt and die away, I cut them down. Another year lost. Why couldn't I grow irises?
And then, come late summer, those little pale stems began once more to grow. Taller and taller, fanning out into a cacophony of delicate pink flowers. Only this year I noticed they weren't growing wild or randomly. They were growing in exactly the places I had planted irises.
I had planted resurrection lilies.
Each year since then, we repeat the cycle. And each year when we reach the middle of August, the pink resurrection lilies on full display, I laugh a little to myself. I must be the only person in the world who plants irises only to grow lilies! But then I stop because these flowers, of all the flowers in my garden, always make me think.
In so many seasons of my life I've planted irises. I've tended my tiny plans, watered them, nurtured them, convinced that they would reap a specific result. And I've been disappointed. What looked like growth never seemed to amount to much. What I had hoped to see never came to fruition. Finally, in frustration, I cut the whole plant down to its roots. What a waste. What a disappointment.
But once in a while, in a different season, I've been surprised to find tiny green stems begin to peek through the ground. They emerge slowly, growing taller and taller. Sometimes, as it turns out, they look nothing like what I planted. And yet they're beautiful.
And each year it makes me wonder: how many plants am I tending in my life that won't produce flowers until much later? How many things am I nurturing and dreaming about that will, in the end, look nothing like the outcome I anticipate now?
Don't be discouraged, friend. If your garden or your life look nothing like you anticipated, don't give up hope. It could be your blooms will come later. Or it could be that what you're growing right now is nothing less than a resurrection lily in the place where an iris was intended. Let it grow: it will be beautiful in its own right.
