Hope in MY Waiting...

I have been dreaming of a week-long retreat of solitude for a few years.  You know the kind.  Going off by myself to contemplate life, write and read and relax.  I do not know if this is a selfish goal, or one that, because I feel it would be good for my soul, would help me become a better person.

As I think about it, a week in a monastery, while it might be the ticket to make this dream come true, might not work out in real life too well.  If you know me you know that I can be loud, and strange things/happening make me laugh out loud, so I might disrupt the peaceful rhythm of  a place of intentional quiet retreat.

As I am now two weeks past my surgery, I want to share a story with you.  Looking back, the days seem to run together, I have begun to call them "day ?" after the surgery.   I had many sweet and precious visitors while I was "in."

I realized around "day 7" that I had sort of experienced a week of solitude.  My time, of course, was spent recuperating.  However, I began to purposefully recount the unanticipated ways that I experienced the love of God through those around me, and within the "quietness" of my room, tethered to my beloved IV pole.

On day 4, a dear friend and her sweet little girl  brought me a beautiful bouquet of lavender and lilies from their own garden--so simple and so beautiful.  I chose to set this bouquet on an elevated shelf, so that I could enjoy them when I 'looked up.'

For me, day 6 was the most difficult day to experience.  As I prepared to go to sleep that evening I was pretty weepy, uncomfortable, and somewhat frustrated at my 'progress'...I thought my body should have been farther along in the healing process than it was, and I could not go home.  But watch, this is the fun part...

As I went to bed that night, I looked up at my flowers, and the beautiful yellow flowers had all closed up and wilted...some had even fallen onto the floor.   That pretty much was how I felt, too.  I prayed for a little while and fell asleep.

When I woke up on the morning of day 7, I felt great physically.  I asked for coffee right away, and as I waited for it, I looked up.  The most amazing thing:  two beautiful yellow lilies had opened up...the bouquet was restored to the way it looked just a few days before.  Somehow, that gave me so much hope.  I think of the oil of joy or beauty from ashes...bad attitude to good attitude...a selfish spirit traded for a heart of gratitude...

I was also reminded of a text that I had received from a dear friend that lives far away from me, "God sees you, and He loves you!"  God is not the lilies, but I think that because they opened up for my eyes to "see" I felt such comfort and peace, knowing that God had made those flowers for His pleasure, but on this particular morning, I got to experience that same pleasure.  And, reassurance of His love for me, and the fact that He truly does see me in every way!  I love that about Him!