Finding Peace in Uncertain Seasons

This past spring, when we were all hunkered down at home and anxiously awaiting a bit of good news about the Covid-19 pandemic, I often found peace just outside my back door.

I’m a homebody, for sure. A gardening homebody, on top of that. But it’s been many years since I made it a near-daily springtime practice to wander around my yard and check up on the progress of all the growing things.

A watched pot never boils, or so the saying goes. Maybe it’s true in the kitchen, but it doesn’t really apply to perennials. They grow whether you watch them or not, as long as they’re relatively healthy and off the radar screen of the local bunny population.

As the weeks went by, I kept track as new growth emerged—crocuses, daffodils, peonies, Virginia bluebells, hostas, Bachelor’s Buttons and so on.

I’d come inside and report on what I saw to my girls, who were occupying their quarantine time with homework, puzzles, card games, movies and generous helpings of pasta.

They would listen politely and go about their business. Their lack of enthusiasm—which I shared when I was their age, by the way—did not detract one bit from the joy I derived from watching my garden grow.

Spring signals hope and potential—it always has. But the truth is, we never know whether that hope is going to be realized, or what form the potential might take if it reaches maturity.

That was the case years ago, when I first remember wandering around outside my home in the springtime, eagerly seeking out fresh signs of plant life.

Randy and I were a few years into our struggle with infertility. My endometriosis required major surgery twice—once over the Fourth of July holiday, and the following year in early March.

As I recovered from the second procedure, I ambled around my yard every day—looking for new growth, wondering what the future held, praying for grace to accept God’s will for our family, whatever it might be.

The shoots coming out of the ground assured me that He was in the business of new life, but the harsh reality outlined in my medical records cautioned me to hold my desires loosely—very loosely.

Sure enough, I never did become pregnant. A few years after that last surgery, we traveled to China to adopt Lilly. Now she’s 18 and preparing to head off to college in a state that is currently a Covid-19 hotspot.

As we wonder what school is going look like in the fall, what’s going to happen after the election, even what the next two weeks might hold, I’m finding it helpful to reflect on that long-ago season of watchful waiting.

Looking back, we can see God’s faithfulness. His hand guiding us as we adopted Lilly, then Molly three years later.

The story He is writing for us has taken a few unexpected twists and turns since then, as it probably has for you throughout your life. The chapter endings haven’t always been happy, and some have left us on the edge of our seats wondering what’s going to happen next.

But with every step, in every season, God has been with us.

I don’t say that because His presence has always been readily apparent or because we haven’t experienced any long droughts of the soul along the way.

I say it because He says it, and I’m making the daily choice to believe it.

“The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.” (Deuteronomy 31:8)

♥ Lois

P.S. I’m linking up this week with Purposeful Faith, #TellHisStory, InstaEncouragements, Recharge Wednesday, Let’s Have Coffee and Grace & Truth.