When I first met my husband, he lived in a bachelor pad off a main, busy road. The house itself was decent with its sunroom and large living room, but I hated the location. Sirens wailed by several times a day. Planes flew low overhead. In the wee hours, train horns blared from the next city over. I'm not a big fan of trains. Or noise. Or pollution.
Or of that entire area.
But that house was where we spent our first three years of marriage. I made the best of it.
Even with all the industrial madness, the full-sun yard was an excellent place to grow all sorts of plants. This is the first place I had ever seen this particular type of lily. The previous owners left an overgrown planter of them in the front yard. We dug them up and split the bulbs, handing them out to relatives. I'm happy to say that this is a picture of one of the descendants in our yard now.
While most lilies bud several flowers off the main stem(s), these crazy things shoot up one giant flower-only stalk on the side of the foliage. A cluster of buds then explodes out of the top of the stalk and spill over.
At this point, the plant looks more like a creature striving for individuality. Uniqueness. Either way, the flowers are lovely and smell like a mixture of honeysuckle and jasmine. The bright white petals almost glow in the moonlight.
They've become some of my favorite flowers. I couldn't be happier that we brought some with us. Thankfully, the deer and rabbits have left them alone.
The flowers only last a couple of days, then the stalks fall over and dry up. In winter, the green foliage turns brown and needs to be cleared away. They come back every year, stronger and brighter for that one special month or so.
I'm also impressed with their resilience. We dug up so many of these bulbs at that first house, we didn't know what to do with them all. We sold some at a garage sale ( I was shocked someone bought them), gave some to neighbors, and threw the rest underneath a bush near the house. I thought the leftover bulbs would eventually dry up and compost themselves.
They didn't.
Those persistent bulbs started reaching roots down into the soil and growing foliage, even above ground. I wasn't watering them. They didn't get sun. The yard people weed-eated their greenery. They still endeavored to grow.
Hard seasons of life can feel like we've been thrown into the shadows, forgotten and lonely. We see others flourishing in the sunlight, but we're still struggling to cover our basic emotional and/or physical needs. Giving up can look like an attractive option.
But the most memorable and inspirational stories center around those who kept on pushing. Those who laughed at the obstacles. Those who took a few serious blows but kept on going.
These flowers are a reminder that we are all more resilient than we believe. Our circumstances don't get to define us. We can still choose how to respond to adversity. Wallowing in self-pity can only keep us stagnant, blind to the great joy waiting on the other side of those shadows. No matter where you are or what you face, keep pushing forward with kindness and love. And, as always...
Keep on smilin'!
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