When Hope Feels Dead

He walked in holding it last year, on our three year anniversary. Outwardly, I smiled and kissed him in thanks, while inwardly wondering why he didn’t just get the usual.

It was a purple orchid plant. Purple’s my favorite color and instead of the usual bouquet that I know is going to come, yet still get excited for every time, he decided on something different.

I knew it was going to die.

My green thumb is…well…not green and orchids are notoriously finicky. The only plant I can keep alive is one that is low maintanance enough to go weeks without water…and don’t even try to get me to re-pot anything.

I knew it was going to die.

My inward disappointment grew as the weeks passed and the three pretty purple flowers slowly lost their petals…one by one by one. I couldn’t help but think it was only fitting that another thing would be lost — this past fall began one of our most difficult seasons…and little did we know how much loss was looming and how bereft and exhausted we would be come December.

I knew it was going to die.

I packed up the dishes, one by one, lamenting and resenting that I was doing this for the third time in three years. How did an 800 square foot apartment hold so much stuff?! As I finished up with the dishes, I moved into the bedroom — the movers had come and gone, leaving only the fragile things for us to move. I glanced at the single stalked, droopy orchid plant on the bookshelf…then looked around for the trash bag. Why move something dead? Even if it was only ten miles north. Yet something held me back — sentiment mixed with some cynicism — what does this mean for our marriage if I throw away my anniversary gift? I rolled my eyes at my own illogical reasoning, but set the plant on the floor to be moved with the rest.

I knew it was going to die.

She bounced into the new house, her contagious joy radiating from her unforgettable smile. How’s it going, Jess? What can I help unpack? I love the house! It looks great! Her questions needed no reply, my sister fell easily into step next to me in the kitchen, with an ease built by years of togetherness. Oooo — look at your orchid! That’s a perfect place for it on the windowsill here. 

It’s dead, Alish — look at it! I almost just threw it away. I probably should now.

She skips over to get a closer look — No, Jess! Look! See this little shoot-off from the main stem? That’s alive — and the leaves look good — I think it’s going to bloom this spring!

I knew it was going to die.

Spring comes as it always does in Texas — a beautiful day or two sandwiched by random thirty degree days until those beautiful days become more and more frequent and the chilly days are only on the days you’ve planned something outside :).

I don’t know if anyone greeted the spring with more excitement than us — the therapeutic sunshine, colorful flowers, and the leaves’ return to the trees were a welcome relief from the gray days that matched our mood and our weary spirits.

One day, early March I suppose, I noticed some buds on that growing shoot Alicia placed her faith in — I couldn’t believe it! The weeks passed…one bloom, then another, another — until there were eight delicate, beautiful purple flowers greeting me each morning when I padded into the kitchen for breakfast. Eight, almost nine!

I knew it was going to die.

Yet it didn’t.

After my sister gave me hope that it was still alive, I started to faithfully feed it three ice cubes every Monday, just like the directions said. I angled it to get enough sun, but not too much! And with every blossom, my faith in that little plant grew — but not only in the plant — in life. Treasured things died this fall, yet we are not without hope.

Spring still comes.

My once thought dead orchid blooms.

And the list of beautiful things remaining in our lives is so long.

I am so grateful to my sister for her words and her faith — as such a valuable lesson would have been lost if I had followed my instinct to throw the plant away.  I am challenged to be like her to others — encouraging them to hold on…don’t give up…the leaves, the roots, the new life is there…even if it seems everything is dead.

We plant

We water

We doubt

We cry

We are weary

Yet we are faithful

And we wait.

We wait because despite the hurt, despite the losses, despite the hard days (Which still come! There’s no pretty bow to wrap up grief!!), despite the brokenness of the world around us — there’s an orchid plant blooming against the odds, giving us reason to remember that we are never without Hope.

***

You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of the dust
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of us

All around,
Hope is springing up from this old ground
Out of chaos life is being found, in You…

~Beautiful Things by Gungor

Do you have an orchid plant right now? Something or someone giving you hope even in the hard? Something showing you that Jesus is working behind the scenes to make beautiful things?