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On Children And Daffodils
Through a technicality, my youngest son lost his academic scholarship. Reeling in confusion, he worried how he would complete university. Meanwhile, his older brother, working feverishly on his doctorate in molecular biology, became severely ill and was laid up for awhile.
As a parent, I grieve when I see my children suffer like this. I feel they are too fragile to endure it. I want to protect them, to bail them out, to fix it for them. But even my best efforts cannot save them from life’s hardships. Sometimes I wonder, What is God doing in their lives?
Spring temperatures in British Columbia's Fraser Valley (Canada) where I live, can be temperamental. Late in February, last year, the warmth of the sun had tricked daffodils into forming swollen buds ready to burst into bloom. Then icy March winds raked across our garden. My daffodils lay like stiff pencils frozen on the hard ground. Ruined beyond repair, I thought.
I snapped off a few flowers and carried them inside the house. How pathetic they looked! More ready for the trash can than the table. Dejectedly, I stuck them into a vase filled with warm water and placed them on the kitchen table.
The next morning, a golden surprise awaited me. My 'wasted' flowers had become a bouquet of beautiful daffodils. As I studied each delicate bloom, I couldn't find a single blemish-not even a hint of yesterday's adversity. What overcoming power in a common daffodil!
If that is how God equips flowers, which are here today and gone tomorrow, how much more will he equip my children for life's adversities? I mused.
Yes, my children will get their share of suffering. I cannot prevent that. But when I see them slain by life's disappointments, sickness, and unfairness, I can offer open arms and a listening ear. I can nurture them with the warm water of my prayers. Who knows what golden virtues God is developing in them?
Thought to ponder: When life goes crazy, God does not jump in and fix it for us. He doesn't even answer our why questions. He offers Himself.