I will be like the dew to Israel; he will blossom like the lily, and he will take root like the cedars of Lebanon. His shoots will sprout, and his beauty will be like the olive tree and his fragrance like the cedars of Lebanon. Hosea 14:5,6 (NASB)

Spring cleaning proved to be a comical challenge this year. I washed windows, hung clean curtains, and tackled the rods and loose screws with my grandsons’ eager help. They sprayed and wiped the windows with their bottle of vinegar water and cloths, and they climbed the step stool more than me. Our legs tangled in a ballet of work and play and expectation as we beheld the view from above. When the youngest pressed small “piggy snouts” on the glass mere minutes after it was cleaned, a tired Mima exhaled, and then she laughed with her grandsons.

Is there a word to describe such a blissful blur? I’m unsure. However, joy and serenity met us by the porch French doors, and I welcomed the sweet smudges. Nothing could be better! Or, so I thought. After I’d tucked the youngest brother in bed for a nap, the older one and I sat down to read books before his quiet time. Nevertheless, I was weary, and I couldn’t keep my eyes open. My body begged for sleep and my head bobbed until a little hand tapped my shoulder and an earnest voice reminded me that I must keep my head up to finish—out of the mouth of a babe!

It seemed like yesterday that I’d tried to get the child’s mother to nap, and I’d fallen asleep. Though my tasks were similar this morn, my role and perspective had changed.

There were days as a young mother that my cleaning seemed senseless. Cheerios became our tile pattern, a disheveled cookie monster took up residence, and the bandit who stole a dirty sock also discarded clean clothes. The laundry basket was always full and the kitchen floor was filthy. The mess frustrated me and consumed my time!

When I finally finished my grandson’s story and headed downstairs, I made a cup of coffee. But it didn’t suffice. My youngest son’s text woke me from my next catnap, “I miss you, mom!” Stirred from my sleep, I glanced at my full mug that had grown cold and the word painted on it. Flourish. It was a thoughtful message of encouragement from his girlfriend. I still had purpose. Words can either pierce us with hurt, shame us into silence, or they spur us on. I also missed my son and his siblings, the noisy taunts, chatter, and bickering, and the sweaty work-outs, sandwich hugs, and mayhem of our conflicted schedules. Our house was empty now, but I had work to do.

Flourish. Work. Dig in the dirt. Sow. Plant. Wait. Expect. Sprout. Question. Weed. Learn. Grow. Forgive. Prosper. Break forth in faith. Speak. Bloom. Thrive. Do good. Be Kind. Keep my head up and finish!

Like all endeavors, success calls for humility, courage, diversification, and diligence.  Although, we may grow weary and hit roadblocks, and experience failure and closed doors, we must press on and ground our days in Truth. God is with us and for us. And His promises stand. He sees with clarity the road ahead.

Whatever season you find yourself in, and whatever you face, don’t let fatigue, worry, and despair win. Seek God’s beauty in your home and efforts. It might present as sweet smudges. And so, let them remain for a time to remind you of what truly matters.

Return to God with words. Confession. Hope. He receives us with grace. God’s love is free. The orphan finds mercy, the widow courage, and a young mother  finds strength to begin again tomorrow. Then again, the Mima might just finish the pages that she started.

You too will bloom,

Lily Mae