Sunshine

            I woke up to sunshine this morning.  Oh, the sky was grey but there, outside my window, were the bright yellow daffodils I had planted in the fall for just such a day as this.  

            Daffodils require faith.  Unlike the annuals I’ll plant in a few weeks that already come full of blooms, color, and fragrance – no waiting or patience required --- daffodils go into the ground as bare bulbs showing no promise of life or the glory to come.  Yet every fall I plant some more, believing in the spring to come.

            I balance on my hands and knees, digging down just far enough but not too far, place the bulb into its especially prepared spot and cover it carefully with sweet smelling earth and adding a layer of mulch.  And for months all I see is that mound of dirt and I wonder what will happen in the spring --- and if anything at all will happen. 

            Now, after months of waiting, green shoots stand tall and on gloomy mornings like this one, I have the wondrous gift of bright yellow blooms proclaiming the certainty of the miracle of life. 

            In the seasons of our lives’ falls and winters we need to remember that life does not always come with the full blooms and glory of annuals that last only for a season, but that most of life grows like daffodils: bare bulbs of hope and promise that take a season to grow hidden underground only to burst like bright sunshine when the time is right. 

Oh, one other thing you need to know about daffodils --- and the unexpected blooms of life --- they are not just for one season.   The miracle happens again and again and again.