My family lived in Holland when I was a child and my memories are mostly of flowers. Every home had a garden replete with blooms of many varieties but all included tulips. We took long drives into the countryside to entertain ourselves on weekends and I was mesmerized by the miles and miles of rows of tulips. First one color and then another. Rows and rows, not unlike the way you drive past rows of corn on the Midwest United States – only the tulips were shorter, and you saw past the rows in front of you to the expanse as far as the eye could see. Whenever life was troubling I went outside and looked at flowers – they were a comfort to me.
Later we lived in Virginia and I begged my father to let me plant tulips in our yard. Not wanting to allow me to disturb the carefully plotted landscape he had created, he finally relented and assigned me a spot by some trees in the back. The spot could not be easily seen from the sliding glass back door, so the view of his landscape was not ruined, and I could have my tulips. I planted six bulbs that November – that’s all he would allow. And in the spring, on my birthday, they bloomed. I was thrilled. To me it was a gift from God. Tulips on my birthday! And for the next seven years those tulips bloomed each year on my birthday – a loving gift from our heavenly father. It was an encouragement – no matter what was going on in my often-troubled life, the tulips were an annual message of comfort.
In my forties I worked for an elected official. It was a high-stress job with little comfort. One year though, our boss suggested that we order office flowers for Valentine’s Day. My co-worker ordered the flowers and two days later a box arrived. Tulips! She did not know about my love of
tulips, but she had ordered three dozen of them. We put them in the vase and watched as they slowly moved from one position to another. It was barely discernable, but we came to understand why tulips are called “the dancing flower.” In the grips of a hectic schedule and the multiple demands of the job, tulips again provided comfort.
Years passed – I continued to love tulips, especially red and yellow. Later in life, just over three years ago, I moved to Indianapolis and became part of the community of Joy of all Who Sorrow. I have never regretted it but an occasional doubt creeps in. Do I really belong here?
I was walking to church during my first spring here and caught a vision of red out of the corner of my eye. Tulips! Instantly I knew God was reassuring me. There were tulips scattered along my three-block path to the church as if to say, yes – you belong here – and providing comfort for my brief doubts. And they have been there every year since then – my comfort from God.
What reoccurring theme in your life brings you comfort and reassurance? Please share it as an encouragement for others!
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