In north Louisiana from February to April we are treated to a daffodil show from the early, mid, and late bloomers. But this year, these poor beauties had a very rough start with the two snow episodes. Well, one I would call a snowstorm, although my northern friends would argue the point. Anyway, the thousands of bulbs in my parents’ field have not bloomed like in the past. Yet, they are not dead, just delayed or scared.
I find myself in the same situation coming out of 2020. I’m not ready to enter my old vibrant way of life. I’m skittish when it comes to milling around with the “thousands.” I’m like the timid daffodils, showing my face to a few waiting for the big event later, maybe next year.
The beauty of the ones who braved the entry are spectacular. I appreciate the hope of spring that is tattooed on their faces. I confirm my desire to be a bright spot for those I see—a smile, a thank you, a wave, a kind word. Whether a daffodil in a field or a person in a grocery store, I want a view of the gentle mankind where beauty is still prevalent perhaps a little shy but alive just the same.
God is not finished with me yet. Like a storm beaten flower, I will find my way to make others happy with a spring to my step and a song on my lips. I’m going to shine anyway.
How are you doing as Spring arrives in a few days?