The War of Waiting

Someone was at the door & as soon as I heard the cadence of the knock I knew who it was. I peeked through the window & the black & grey hair confirmed it was Sarah, the mother of Isaac. I opened the door & without words we embraced. She grabbed my cheeks & said “My sweet girl, I’ve missed you.” With glossy eyes I smiled. I began steeping our usual pot of Earl Grey and I began catching her up on all of the latest things. Hours went by & in the first gap of silence she leaned in and said “The war of waiting isn’t over.” I squinted wondering how long she had been waiting to say that. She pointed to the tulips beginning to blossom in the front yard & said, “Did you know those tulips are expected to return & blossom every year? But what most people don’t know is the deeper they are planted the stronger the bulb & stem become, allowing the mother bulb to reproduce, which results in the following years blossom.” We both stared at the red tulips then she said “They’re resilient because they spend most of their time in the depths, unseen... And they re-grow because they re-break.” ⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣

⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣She put her cup in the sink, kissed my forehead, & before opening the door to leave she said “Blossoming is beautiful & worthy of being celebrated but the only reason we blossom is because we break. I’ll see you soon.”⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣

⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣I sat there staring at the resilient tulips that now reflected the victory of waiting & breaking, a war that no human is immune to. ⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣

⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣I started to imagine little tulip bulbs under the soil embracing the purity of not being seen. Delighting in the dark... ⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣

⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣Could it be? That the soil of waiting is designed to break us with the motive to grow us? That the unseen places are the holiest? That it’s only in this quiet yet pure place of existence that breaking means blooming? ⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣

⁣I guess what I’m trying to say is that it’s a beautiful dance; the experience of basking in the joy of a miraculous season you’ve been hoping for yet knowing you’ll soon return to the place of being unseen again. & better yet, not being afraid of it because you know not to underestimate what is happening in the quiet and deep places.