In a Field of Flowers…

I originally wrote this back in 2009, and wanted to add it to my blog for posterity’s sake. It’s good to see where I was, and even better to see where God has brought me. His grace is so very sufficient.

I once loved a man who broke my heart. When I was gluing the pieces back together, he was “thoughtful” enough to call and check on me every couple of weeks, even offering advice on my new dating relationship. He knew me well enough to hear the frustration in my voice that betrayed my words. He accurately interpreted “Things are fine” to mean “I’m pretty sure I’m in a place I shouldn’t be, I just don’t know if and/or how I should get out.” He stopped me cold in the middle of a sentence, “Robin, I know you. You should not be dealing with this, and we both know it.” He went on to paint a metaphor of how things “should be” for my life. He remembered our goofy ‘If I were a crayon’ conversation, and offered this advice:

Imagine you’re in a field of beautiful flowers, and you’re looking for the one that was created just for you. You stop and admire each intricate bloom, finding several worth picking – but you can’t. You’re looking for the rare-colored cerulean blue (my crayon color of choice) flower. Don’t you dare stop until you find it; don’t settle for anything less.

I must admit, it sounded beautiful. However, I was at a point in life where I was tired of flower shopping – I’d been pricked by too many thorns. I had found a rather intriguing bud, not yet a bloom, and felt drawn to water and care for this particular one. I quickly learned I was not a natural horticulturist, so I delved into reading and research in the way of prayer and scriptures.

My back began to hurt from leaning over and watching the bud. My knees became sore and my hands dirty from kneeling in the soil to care for the soon-to-be-blossom. This wasn’t the ideal cerulean blue flower I was “supposed” to find, yet I couldn’t take my eyes away.

After long periods of watching, waiting, watering, wondering, and worrying, I realized there was nothing I could do to make this flower bloom. There were times I wanted to give up, to walk further on into the field, to find a different blossom. Every time I decided to get up and move on, something kept me from doing so. Finally, I threw up my hands in frustration and knew there was nothing more I could do for the fledgling bud, so I went to the Master Horticulturist.

I asked God to water my flower, to provide the exact amount of sunlight, and to let it bloom in His time, not mine. I remained on my knees, but my gaze was not fixated on the flower – I focused on the Master Gardener. God not only watered His bloom, He did the same, and much more, for me. He uprooted me and planted me in fertile soil.

As the seasons changed, so did the flower. The bud began to bloom and blossom. I was blessed to watch the transformation of a beautiful creation.

In the end, I guess I did find my cerulean blue flower; I just couldn’t see the color of the petals until it bloomed.

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