To be honest, I’ve been grappling with what to write in the midst of this global pandemic. Understandably, it brings with it much confusion and fear. In addition to our health, we are all wondering about how to navigate our jobs under a shelter-in protocol, worrying about managing our personal finances, struggling with how to best care for our children and elderly parents, and concerned about the national economy as well as the general state of our nation. These are not small fears, nor are they unfounded.
Sometimes, though, comfort comes. If we are quiet enough to listen, it appears. If we allow ourselves to be still in the chaos that surrounds us, we can see.
I briefly stepped out onto my balcony this morning to check on my plants and to get some much needed fresh air. “I need to water them,” I thought to myself as I quickly glanced around. A breeze was blowing and tousling the leaves in the trees. A squirrel bounced along the top of a fence below. I hadn’t planned on staying long for I had work to do, blogs that I had procrastinated writing. As I turned to go inside I looked down and noticed my little orchid plant nestled in the corner behind the balcony door. I purchased the orchid plant four years ago at a tiny flower stand on 96th street in New York City. It had one orchid that quickly died off that winter. Disappointed, I prepared to toss the dead plant away, but stubborn as I am, decided to give the little plant another chance. I continued to water it and placed it in our kitchen window in Harlem for two more years. When we moved to Tampa I placed it on the balcony with all the other plants. For years, the most I got out of the plant were two green arching leaves. I had long given up on the idea of ever seeing an orchid again, but couldn’t bear the thought of throwing out a plant that was at least somewhat green and technically still living. So I kept it, and its two green leaves.
Occasionally, a promising shoot would emerge from the middle of the leaves, only to dry up and form a brown stump after several weeks. When I saw a green shoot crawling out of the leaves a month or so ago, I didn’t get excited. Even when the shoot produced little green bulbs, I was not confident they’d amount to anything. I’d seen this all before to no avail. But this morning, after years of nothing, I noticed a flash of color out of the corner of my eye. I only have tropical green plants, so the bright purple immediately grabbed my attention. My eyes adjusted, and there it was. I knelt down to get a closer look. There, growing out of the small ceramic vase I bought years ago was the shining violet face of an orchid bloom.
This unassuming plant chose to bloom now, just when I needed it the most. It was as if it were waiting for the perfect time to remind me of such virtues as patience, perseverance and fortitude. All of the values I, and we, need to hold onto in this very moment.
May we not forget that it is still spring, despite the other distractions around us, and spring is a time of rebirth and hope. This season and this little orchid are symbols of renewal and remind us that out of the harshest of winters can come the brightest of flowers. They are reminders that we can get through this. And like the little orchid, it may take some time, but we will push through the soil to see the sunshine.
We will get through this challenging time together and we will be okay.
Thank you, little orchid, for this unexpected gift of hope…
How have you found hope in the midst of our current circumstances?
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