(Missed Part I? Read it here!)
Sure enough, spring came in its own sweet time. With it began the slow, steady process of physical healing. My sister's beautiful wedding. The gift of plane tickets to visit a dear friend. Children's ministry opportunities. Hope was planted. I had no job, no idea where life was heading, but I was content. I was happy enjoying spring and daydreaming of summer, hoping it wasn't far away. But God loved me, had always provided and He knew what He was doing, so why should I worry?
When summer arrived, it seemed like hope's tiny rosebuds burst into full bloom with colour more glorious than I had ever before seen. Where did all this beauty come from and why had God chosen me to receive this enormous bouquet?
I savoured it. It was the most amazing gift I had ever been given. I clung to it with both hands, not daring to let it go. I didn't deserve it... not at all. But it was unequalled in beauty and I felt so cherished. I loved it.
Autumn appeared, and as the weather got cooler, the wind picked up, and the petals began to fall from my beautiful roses until all that remained was the seeds at the centre. I was left tightly grasping nearly bare stems, shielding the seeds from the elements, lest they too escape me.
I questioned. Yes. I was confused. Why would my Lover give me such a gift... only to tantalize me as I watch it be ripped apart and its beautiful petals scattered by the wind only a short while afterwards? I felt betrayed, like He was less than honest with me when He gave it. If I had only known it was so fragile, I would have... would have... what? Refused it? Enjoyed it less?
No. It was a beautiful gift. The brevity of its lifespan could subtract nothing from its beauty. It gave me a glimpse of just how much He loves me, and now I refocus my attention on my Lover Himself. He really was so immensely kind in giving such an exquisite gift. And, though I have little left of the gift, I know, without doubt, the depth of His love. He stayed close by, observing my fascination with His gift. He was always ready when I wanted to talk with Him, when I needed advice or a listening ear, whenever I needed His help. Even when I was too busy, enraptured by His gift, He pursued me and sought me out, and never let me wander too far.
But. I have little hope seeds left on these bare stems. They're all I have left of the roses, and I'm holding them tightly. He asks that I give them back to Him. I wince. Jesus, you know how I'm sentimental that way. Can't I keep them in memory of it?
His hand tenderly rests on my arm. You know I love you. So trust Me with those seeds.
I glance at the Hands holding me. Strong, steady, gentle Hands that have never been unkind to me. My gaze travels to His face, to His eyes so full of love and tenderness, and, as I slowly hand him the leftovers of my bouquet, he takes the remains and prepares the seeds for planting.
He smiles. It'll take time and the cold of winter. There, buried in the dark ground, they'll die. But, leave them alone, and, in the spring, they will grow. In time, you'll have many more roses than just a bouquet, and you and anyone that passes by can enjoy their beauty.
How kind He is. How wise. How very, very good to me. And to think that, in my shortsightedness, I can consider forfeiting all this just to hold on to some dead stems?
I'll leave you with this quote from Charles Spurgeon:
“Remember this:
had any other condition been better for you
than the one in which you are,
Divine love would have put you there.”
