This beautiful blog, written by a friend of Mary Frances Trust, depicts how in the darkest moments of our lives, we can find hope and comfort in the cycles of nature.
“My garden is full of daffodils and to me they are a sign of hope and faith in the future. I watch from the first day, I see the small green shoots peeping through the cold soil, worrying if the weather will suddenly take a turn for the worse and damage the fragile buds they hide within their folds. I measure them with my eye as they start to grow taller, imagining my disappointment if I get a lush supply of leaves instead of the bright display of yellow flowers, all different shades and sizes that I am hoping for.
And then, one day Spring arrives in swathes of golden glory. Although my garden is full of spring flowers, the daffodils hold a special place in my heart.
Many years ago, someone I love very much was lying in a hospital bed miles from home. He had what they now call “life changing injuries” but in those days, they were described very differently. I sat day after day with him, talking to him although I knew he would not respond, playing his favourite music, whispering words of encouragement, watching him with tubes and drips attached to every limb and not knowing what the outcome would be. I went home to my children every night and tried to hide my fears and my sorrow and make life normal for them. I had no real hope for a future that would be happy for any of us. Then one day, on what I called “silly shopping” trips where I bought no food – friends and family were feeding my children and I could not eat – I picked up a bag of daffodil bulbs. I planted them the next day, before I went to the hospital. I bought another and another, until I was trying to plant bulbs on top of bulbs I had already planted. I planted every variety in every colour I could find, scouring the shops and garden centres for new ones. When the garden was full, I dug them into the grass verges by the house. They were my hope for the future; my hope that if they bloomed our lives would be good again. They gave me a purpose and I longed for the day they would light up my garden. Then, as little miracles were happening under the earth, a bigger miracle started to happen above ground. Slowly, oh so slowly, eyes were opened, briefly at first then for longer periods. Limbs began to move, revealing new problems. He did not recognise me or anyone else but that did not matter. The impossible was happening and hopes for a future started to become real. I held my breath every time I visited, in case it was not what I’d hoped for, and I learned that miracles sometimes need a little help. I learned that people do not wake up from months in a coma looking like a film star, saying ‘Where am I?’ and making an instant recovery. Months passed, our miracle continued and at last I took him home, where we watched the daffodils together as they beat the winter cold and defied wind and rain, frost and ice and turned into the biggest swathe of golden joy that would come back year after year.
So, find your reason for hope, plant the seeds of it in the darkest moments and keep nurturing it on good days and bad; even when you think there is nothing to hope for. You never know; you could end up with a field of daffodils!”
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