A hydrangea along the driveway, framed in faded red for weeks, had produced from dormancy a bloom of brilliant blue among those that had already gone by. Then I noticed a clump of Shasta daisies had suddenly opened by the front porch.
The nights have been cold, with temps in the freeze zone, and the date, obviously, is October. But still, the flowers endure in this show of strength against the odds.
When I look at them, as the leaves begin to fall around the yard, I’m reminded of how resilient we really are, often, more than we know.
Life has been filled with endings lately that have forced some new beginnings. Some changes have been welcomed. Some were inevitable. Others have been hard and scary. Sometimes, when little feels recognizable, I try to remind myself of the old saying that when a door closes in one place, a window opens somewhere else.
When I was a kid I had no idea what that meant, and rolled my eyes at yet another inane thought from the nuns at my school. Now that I am older I see the wisdom, and the truth, that in letting go you open yourself to receive.
It’s been a challenging few weeks that includes a bucketload of work up to the gills. Yesterday, I got to my laptop at 7 a.m. and after a handful of appointments and commitments, was still there well after 1.
I woke up with an exhaustion hangover that two huge cups of French roast couldn’t cure. Then, as I was driving my daughter to school, I saw the flowers, and I felt refreshed, remembering that good things never fail to come to good people.
I am thankful for the simple blessings I have received lately — whether in uplifting notes from friends, or the offer of warm hugs from my teenager who has a sixth sense for when I need them. And, as I saw today, in this unexpected new beauty, the not-so-subtle reminder that — like the flowers — I am stronger than I think, and everything is going to be OK.