Our Violet

Walk into the fields and look at the wildflowers. They don't fuss with their appearance—but have you ever seen color and design quite like it? The ten best-dressed men and women in the country look shabby alongside them. If God gives such attention to the wildflowers, most of them never even seen, don't you think he'll attend to you, take pride in you, do his best for you?

Luke 12:27 (The Message)

7 years ago we buried our first child, our daughter Halley. On that day we weren't the only parents grieving. I'm not just assuming that, I know that. Two of our friends from high school lost their precious son while he was still in the womb. Christie had to deliver her baby knowing that he wouldn't be alive. They got hours, not days or months...only hours with their son. So different than us, but in ways so similar. So that spring day in March both our kids were laid to rest next to each other. Not really something you want to have in common with your friends. That day not only did Daniel's parents come to Halley's funeral, but they had an african violet delivered to our house in memory of our little girl. They didn't know this and probably still don't, but my great grandmother loved african violets and one of the few memories I have of her home is the window with the stand of probably more than 10 violets each blooming beautiful purple flowers.

We got many flowers that week, but the violet was my favorite. After a few weeks all the plants and flowers died, but not the violet. It lost it's blooms, but remained alive. I, too, seemingly lost my blooms. I was alive, but definitely not blooming. Fast forward a year, another loss, another burial, more flowers given to us in memory of Porter. They all died, but not our violet. Fast forward another year, our son, Shepherd comes home with us from the hospital. We move. Another year, our son Owen is born, the violet is alive, but doesn't bloom. Another year, Marley Grace is born. The violet looks like it might bloom, it has a small bud that never flowers. It's alive, wanting so bad to produce a flower. Another year, another move. I placed the violet in my new bathroom, by the window. It gets just enough sun and just enough water. A reminder everyday of my past, my loss, the loss of my friend and the grace of God. This spring for the first time in 7 years our violet blooms---not just one flower but two. I can't help but think about Halley, Daniel and Porter. And I think about my own life, am I finally starting to bloom again? After all the pain and all the hard years? Could God really be using this for beauty in my life? Yes, He is. He's desired it all along, but now it's coming to be. I still don't understand it all and wouldn't ever have chosen it, but God is making it beautiful. And I'm grateful.

and provide for those who grieve in Zion— to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the LORD for the display of his splendor.

Isaiah 61:3 (The Message)