Look! I’m doing a new thing;
now it sprouts up; don’t you recognize it?
I’m making a way in the desert,
paths in the wilderness. –Isaiah 43:19 CEB
My Grandmother loved daffodils. She collected them. In all their various forms. Drawings, prints, sculptures, tiles she had painted, prints from artists, photographs, needlepoint pillows with Shakespeare quotations, and, of course, the bulbs themselves.
At my grandparents’ house, especially at this time of year, there are literally hundreds of daffodils blooming, from nearly fifty years of stopping at the roadside and collecting them, and purchasing them, and having friends give the bulbs to the family.
It’s a funny thing about the bulbs, you plant them in the fall, when the flower has died, and when the bulb has drawn back into itself, protecting the parts that grow again. And then you put it in the ground, and hope that you’ve placed it right side up, and wait.
You have to wait.
And then it blooms.
At 216, there are hundreds of blooms. And there are thousands of blooms, everywhere, because it is daffodil season. A new way is being made. See, my Grandmother died a week ago, at her home, with all of her favorite blooms out in her front yard. And these words from scripture, about new things, I read these words at the service in celebration of her life, and I believe them.
Because even when it is hard, even when it seems that I am going to miss her so terribly that I cannot figure out what is next, I know that there is a way being made in this wilderness. A path even in this desert.
And so, I smile, sometimes through the tears, at all the daffodils that I see around me, every time I drive somewhere I see more of them.
I see them out my kitchen window. And they are bright and beaming and saying: Rejoice! We were hiding, but now we celebrate! Come, Dance with us!