From tomato woes
to watermelon heists
, these past few weeks have had some trying moments, so it is quite fitting that in the same period of time, the sunflowers have started to bloom. Just seeing these bright and cheery flowers puts the tough things into perspective.
You see, these are not just any sunflowers; these sunflowers were a very special gift to me this spring. Just a few days after I published this post
about our most recent pregnancy loss, Peggy
, a regular reader and all around awesome gardener from Ohio, sent me a sweet card filled with an assortment of seeds (peppers and sunflowers, her specialties!). In the card, she called them "seeds of hope," and in addition to offering her sympathy, wished us brighter, happier days ahead.
I was (and continue to be) incredibly touched by this simple, yet powerful gesture from a fellow gardener. It was such a perfect metaphor, not only as we began to heal the raw edges of our most recent loss, but also as we picked up the pieces and resumed starting the adoption process. Seeds. Growth. New Life. Hope. It doesn't get any better than that, does it?
Being May, it was too late to start the pepper seeds for this year's garden, but I immediately figured out where I could fit in a few sunflowers and planted an assortment of different varieties, intentionally not keeping track of what landed where, in hopes of having a truly delightful surprise as each flower matured.
And with each new bloom, I am not only surprised, but constantly reminded of how many good and beautiful things are in my life, and how far I've come since those tough spring days. I see the blooms, bright and cheerful, even on a cloudy day, and think of how incredible a thing hope truly is. It's astounding, actually.
The largest of the sunflowers have yet to start blooming, so as we wait for an adoption match, I walk past these buds and blossoms each day and know that the best is yet to come. Thank you, Peggy, for this perfect reminder.