daffodils and weary hearts

Two years ago, I saw a daffodil thriving in the wild. A garden flower contrasted against the drab color of the dirt path. I wrote these words about her

 There she was, a simplistic beauty, misplaced. An attention drawn to herself, unintentionally,
because of who she was and how she thrived.
She was a garden flower blooming in the wilderness.

But wasn't it just beautiful?

The way she grew right where she had been planted? The way she allowed her roots to run deep, intertwining with those around her. Somehow stunning the way her vivid yellow contrasted with the drab colors of the dried, desert-like ground. Right next to the gentle brook, the daffodil's courage spoke to my heart.

I prayed this dangerous and painful prayer that God would take my roots deep, that He would ground me in His love, that He would bring me to a place where my roots would grow deep where He planted me. I prayed that He would be my perfect Gardner, gently uprooting me, planting me, cultivating me. I prayed that His kind hands that have moved mountains would teach me what it meant to grow here with my roots running deep and wide. 

I prayed,

he answered.

Two years later, I am deeply rooted. In this place that has been hard and painful. In this ground that has experienced long droughts and torrential rain. Under this sun that has scorched my skin and given me life. I am deeply rooted, fully alive. 

Today, I saw a daffodil. In the same wild I saw the other one. These daffodils had been trampled on. Right in the middle of a deer path was this daffodil plant. The daffodils were bent, their petals were dirty and broken. Their stems were drooping. My heart hurt for this daffodil. Maybe it was hurting for myself. Because just like I felt like that wild daffodil three years ago, I feel like this wilting daffodil now. 

"I am tired," I told Jesus. "So, so tired." 

I have nothing left to give. For the first time, I have worn myself to the point of exhaustion, to the point where I cannot stand and discouragement is bleeding through my heart. 

I've been waiting for the rest to return, the motivation to revive, my heart to leap, but it has not. 

Just like the broken daffodil, I wanted to be revived. 

Then I realized, maybe the Lord had been waiting for me to get to this place all along. Maybe, in my distress and my exhaustion, as I fall heavily in the arms of my Savior, he whispers, "finally." Maybe, He breathes a sigh of relief because I open my empty hands and He can fill me with his love, kindness, and rest. 

All my attempts at filling up this leaking vessel were meaningless. All these things that failed to fill me up: friends, school, activities, sleep, comfort, adventures. All of those things were temporary fixes to fill my leaking jar. 

And maybe, God's intent is to not fix the leaks but to overwhelm me with his love and presence that I overflow with Jesus and out of those wounded and broken places, He shines through and alleviates the aches in the pain.

I am the daffodil, strong and misplaced.

I am the daffodil, wilting but rooted.
I am in this place where I have been deeply rooted, but life has burdened me. But in this place, I have met my good and kind Father who is the giver of every good and perfect gift. His love is overflowing in this place because He is here. He may not take me back to the abundant and thriving place of the first daffodil and He may not revive these daffodils on the deer path to the way the others thrive. But within these circumstances, He is my good Father who faithfully caused my roots to run deep. And here in this dry and weary place, He is the One who provides rest for my restless soul, love for my broken places, and assurance to my doubting heart.

He is showing me that He is God.
And that is enough.