Consider the Lillies
If I am being honest, my life has been hazy in the days of late. It feels like I am watching myself in a movie rather than being present. I imagine it has a lot to do with the loss of our first child. While there is no way I can deny the pain and the heartbreak of this loss, in the days since time has felt like it has passed in its own way not following any of the natural laws. It does not seem to be a reality that belongs to me even though each time I see the small angel sitting on my dress I am reminded that it is my reality. Our reality.
I have attempted to find ways to cope or just make sense of this whole mess. I have always been a creative person, pursuing any passion or craft that involved glue, paint, or glitter. I tried all of those and ended up more distressed than before. I was beginning to feel like there was no cure, no relief for the grief that just engulfed me every moment. Until I looked through my kitchen window and saw a singular golden wildflower.
Its petals seemed tiny amidst the brick of our house. But somehow it looked formidable, like it had fought its way through the red clay ground and around the weeds to bloom at this exact moment. I had all but forgotten that I had spread the seeds weeks earlier, about the time I found out I was expecting our little one. Each morning of the next week, the wildflowers multiplied at what felt like an unnatural speed. And at first, I didn’t want to acknowledge how beautiful these little blooms were. To me, it was ironic that I was able to make these little buds grow yet I was unable to sustain the life that had grown inside me. Grim thoughts, I know but that was the reality.
Not long after that while drinking my coffee and just watching our cardinals hop around the yard a tune fluted through my head. I started humming before I truly recognized what the song was. Perhaps you know it:
“Consider the lilies;
They don't toil nor spin
And there's not a king with more splendor than them.
Consider the sparrows;
They don't plant or sow
But they're fed by the Master who watches them grow”
To say that tears began to flow would be putting it lightly. The proof of God’s love, his substance was literally swaying in the breeze outside of my window. I am not saying my grief was washed away or the hurt healed. There will always be a soft spot in my heart for this child of mine. There will always be moments that tug on my heart and I am sure there will be tears to come. But, in the early morning hours, my heart rested in the plan and security of my Father. Again, I am sure I will fall prey to doubt planted my the devil but those wildflowers dancing in the sun would be there to turn my heart back to the promises the Lord has for me.
Who would have guessed that the most delicate of blooms, the most sporadic of flowers would be what my soul needed to remember who held me, who ordered my steps and who was the author of my life. Consider the lilies, or the wildflowers if the Father nourishes them how much more does he care for you.
