LESSONS FROM A HOPEFUL ORCHID

“Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but when the desire comes, it is a tree of life.”

~ Proverbs 13:12

Hope.

Such a simple word, just four little letters, yet what power it holds. The power to hold on when everything tells us to let go. The power to believe when all around us mocks our faith. Even the power to live when all the natural world chants “die”. Hope is a powerful word, indeed. And yet, to be so powerful, it is amazing the vulnerable places where it so often appears.

Such as an orchid.

I am not a gardener. Though I know it runs in my family—my Aunt is blessed with a “Midas touch” gone green—apparently the gene to keep alive basically any kind of plant longer than a few weeks skipped the pool when I came along. I’ve been trying to work on it (currently there’s a viola on my porch that’s made it over a month: so far, so good!), but God obviously did not make me with the primary calling of horticulturalist in mind.

Which makes my orchid something of a miracle.

I’ve had her (because an orchid just couldn’t be called a “him” 😉) for almost two years now and, in spite of it being common knowledge that orchids are some of the most notoriously difficult plants to keep alive, somehow this beautiful organism is still growing, even thriving. Granted, she came with good instructions and I have been doing a lot of YouTube channel surfing for DIY florists, but, if you ask me, I believe something more is involved. Several times throughout her growing cycle, the Lord has used my lovely orchid to teach me valuable lessons: in patience, in perseverance, in faithfulness…even in the importance of doing things on a schedule and exactly the way the instructions say to (not something that comes naturally for me 😊). Of all the lessons, however, and of all the inspiration this tenacious little plant has offered, what has transpired over the past few weeks has touched my heart in a truly profound way.

You see, at the beginning of this year my orchid was struggling. Still in the same tiny pot she had been purchased in over a year before, she was beginning to develop a malady called “snow mold”. This, along with some other problems, had already stunted her growth and were beginning to pose a more serious threat to her survival so, in spite of the fact you’re not supposed to repot orchids until after their blooming season is over, I realized I had to act. It was all my fault and I knew it: if I hadn’t procrastinated the previous summer, when I should have repotted, she would have not been placed at such risk…yet, there was nothing else to be done. I had to take a chance and pray for the best. Without going into a whole lot of details I’m sure you have no interest in reading (unless you’re a “green thumb” like my blessed Aunt 😊), I poured the orchid out of the tiny pot she was in, rinsed away all the mold and decrepit dirt, and found, to my surprise, her roots were incredibly healthy—rather amazing, considering how cramped they had been.

That was my first sign of hope.

If the roots of a thing are healthy, there is always a chance of life—no matter the blight, parasite, or frost that comes against it (feels like a sermon is in there somewhere)…but would the roots stay that way? Being uprooted and replanted is difficult for any living organism (who doesn’t know the pain of moving from a place they hold dear, losing the security of a job they depended on, aching for the presence of a loved one they’ve lost?), and orchids are especially finnicky. The shock of a sudden change—even change designed for its benefit—can often be so traumatic for the plant that it never recovers.

So for 8 weeks, from February 10 to April 3, I hoped and waited.

I watered.

I exposed to daylight, shielding from the direct sun.

And hoped and waited.

I saw a bloom begin to form.

I prayed.

I watered.

And hoped and waited.

I watched the bloom drop off in a depressed shrivel.

I sighed, fighting off depression myself.

I prayed.

I watered.

And hoped and waited some more.

At least twice (though, honestly, it felt like more) my hopes were excited by the appearance of a green bud—one maturing to the point it seemed sure to pop open—only to have the promise of life drop off before it could flourish.

“Hope deferred makes the heart sick…”

Now, unless you’ve been blissfully hiding under a rock over the past few weeks, you also know what else has transpired this winter and spring. To say the infamous Coronavirus has turned our whole world on its head feels a bit cliché but I’m not sure how else to say it. Undoubtedly, your life—like mine—has felt at least somewhat uprooted (maybe much more than somewhat) and, as I settled into “lockdown” while watching my poor orchid struggle to recover from the trauma I’d recently forced it through, it felt like watching a metaphor. Every bud that formed brought new hope, and every bud that dropped off felt like an added exclamation point to the gloom seeping in around me. At times, I wondered if she would ever recover. If she could ever recover…

And could we?

So I prayed.

I did what I could.

And I hoped and waited.

Finally, on April 3, the miracle occurred: a small one perhaps but not insignificant. A bud began to open: slow and shy at first, yet in a few hours I knew this one was going to last. The next day I could see inside the blossom—painted pink and delicate—and within 48 hours, my orchid had its first true bloom in months: pure and white and glorious! A few days later came another, then another, and another: four gorgeous blooms and counting! In fact, they are so full and perfect I have had to reinforce the spike that supports them twice just to try and bear their weight.

“…But when the desire comes, it is a tree of life.”

So, I guess what I’m trying to say is: don’t give up hope. Even if your life feels flipped upside down right now—if the trauma you’ve recently endured (or perhaps endured long ago) has left you in such shock you don’t know if you’ll ever recover—take a lesson from a humble, hopeful orchid and be encouraged. The desire may seem far off. It may seem non-existent. But don’t give up hope. Don’t ever, ever give up hope! Cling to it. Fight for it. Wait in it. And, above all, trust Jesus: He is the “God of hope”, after all (Romans 15:13).

Sometimes hope just takes a little time.

“Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for He who promised is faithful.” ~ Hebrews 10:23

EMBRACE ADVENTURE,

CHRISTIS JOY