Waiting for the Blooms

Peonies have long been my favorite flower. In the world of flowers, they are all petals and no fluff. There is something about them that remind me of abundance and fullness of life. When we bought the house 10 years ago, I had dreams of planting several bushes along the side of the house. After all, even though it was fall and the bush wasn't blooming, the previous owner spoke of a peony bush already in that spot.

As is often the case, I slept too many times between October and April, and I forgot about the peony bush. And before my memory could be jogged, Nathan had mowed the side yard flower beds and all. In the subsequent springs, I would wonder what that plant that kept coming up in the my flower bed was. I had since filled the bed with daylilies and pulled the odd plant out each year. Obviously, my gardening prowess is extremely limited and the poor peony was its casualty.

Three years ago, my marriage was failing and my family's life would change forever. Like a giant lawn mowing taking down everything in its path, every part of my life was changed. I was no longer a wife, no longer a pastor's wife and I was now a single parent. In the wake of the final traumatic event, my life felt like a shorn path without any blooms. It definitely had become something I hadn't planned or dreamed about. And many days, I would wonder if it would ever be anything more than an ash heap of what was or what might have been.

Quite unexpectedly during that spring, the memory of the previous owner telling me there was a peony bush on the side of the house came back to me. And I remember watching the plants come up in the spring and inspecting them. Looking at peony bushes in my friends house and comparing the leaves. Sure enough, there it was a peony bush on the side of my yard. I was ecstatic. I couldn't wait for the big blooms to come out, instead of pulling the plant up, I babied it.

But no blooms came. The leaves were green and healthy looking but nothing even close to a bud developed. I was very disappointed. My friend Joanne assured me that peonies can be a bit persnickety when it comes to be treated poorly. She told me it was not uncommon for them not to bloom for several years after being replanted. And who could blame this poor plant who had been mowed and pulled and ignored for many years already. So began my hoping and waiting for the blooms to come again.

Another two springs passed with no blooms. Early every spring I would go out and look for buds. Last year, there were finally buds. Small and tightly wrapped, the buds never loosened to reveal the abundant petals inside. For many weeks I would go out and look to see if there were any signs of loosening and blooming. But it was another spring of disappointment. This year I was cautiously optimistic that finally the blooms would come.

Once again, among the leaves were buds but this time they did not stay tightly shut. This time I could watch daily and see the petals begin to break out of the buds. My peony is pink - I never knew what color it was until two days ago when an overabundance of beautiful pink petals burst out from the leaves. (see pic below) After three years, something beautiful had finally come out of what once had been pile of rubble. After three years, of waiting, I could enjoy the abundant growth.

When I first realized that my marriage was over, I felt like nothing would ever be ok again. I was damaged goods and the pain was so great, I never imagined life without it. Someone had told me that it takes 6 months for every year of a relationship to truly find healing. I couldn't imagine feeling bad for that long - it was like a 8 year jail sentence. And like waiting for the peony bush to bloom, I wondered if my own life would bloom again.

The peony beat me to the bloom. Its perseverance and strength give me hope that life can go on. That out of death and pain, new life does come and it just takes time. After three years, I can see the growth already. There are leaves and maybe some tight little buds. And in time I am sure like the peony, there will be new blooms bursting out and maybe I will be surprised by the color. Because I still don't know what this new life will look like. Or what is waiting to come out of the ashes. I just know it will. So now I wait and hope. I rest in my Father who knows best and who will always,

. . . give beauty for ashes, joy instead of mourning, praise instead of despair. For the Lord has planted them like strong graceful oaks for his own glory. (Isaiah 61:3)