Small Green Shoots of Faith

 

 

On a cool October day, I knelt with my knees in the dirt to plant tulip bulbs. I used a special bulb planting tool that I’ve owned so long that I’ve forgotten where it came from. Dig the hole, drop in the bulb flat side down/tip up, fill the hole, scooch over, dig another hole. Water the whole lot in.

I love the rhythm of bulb-planting.

And the very best part?

Every bulb planted reminds me of  how important it is to have faith. And to be able to wait.

Because when you plant a tulip bulb in October, then all you can do is… wait.

Wait through the snows, the torrential rains, the short, dark days, the gloom of January…. you patiently wait.

And if you got all worried and anxious about the bulbs – were they okay? would they come up? – and you went out on a frosty February Saturday to dig them up just to check, you’d kill ‘em.

So tulip growers must wait, and have faith.

Faith that you dug the hole deep enough.

Faith that nature will take its course (which, naturally means you plan that 25% of what you plant will feed the neighborhood squirrels).

Faith that on one March morning you’ll see tiny green shoots pushing up through the earth.

Tiny, mighty green shoots.

That’s the magic moment for me, the moment when my faith pays off.

Every time I see those small green shoots of possibility.

You see, I plant mixed tulip bulbs and never know what color will come up where, which makes that small green shoot a promise of the surprise to come. Doubling my delight.

All because I had the faith to plant them that October morning and resisted the urge to dig them up just to check.

Oh, plenty of us are too cautious to plant the bulb in the first place – we’ve been told for far too long not to get our hopes up. Why make the effort? We’d probably plant the bulbs upside down, or they’d rot, or the squirrels would have a family reunion feast in our front yard, leaving us with nothing.

And some of us need constant reassurance that we did the right thing by taking the time to plant bulbs. Are other people planting? Did I do it right? Do you think it’s working? How can I know for sure it’ll work?

Then there are those of us who are in-between and wonder why to plant anything at all when we’re just going to be moving on before anything happens.

Fear, insecurity, hopelessness set in and the opportunity to create something truly beautiful escapes us.

You know this is a metaphor, right?

Planting = your best work.

Waiting = faith that consistently doing what’s right is the most fulfilling part of the journey.

Green shoots of possibility = proof that you did the right thing most of the time.

Fully grown tulips = your beautiful, precious reward.

You, my friend, are the master gardener of your life and your career.

Every single day, with your choices, you are planting seeds and bulbs, trees and shrubs – in the ways you talk to others, the ways you show appreciation, the ways you collaborate, the ways you encourage, the ways you take responsibility.

Every single day, you have the choice to plant your seeds in your own rhythm, with the faith that – someday – you’ll see those small green shoots break through the earth with the promise of something quite spectacular on the way.

It’s all up to you to create your fabulous garden of a life. What will you plant today?

 

 

 

 

Meeting Faith


I met Faith on an airplane.

She settled in next to me and when I introduced myself and held out my hand, she took it saying, “Wow, that’s so polite. I’m Faith.”

For those of you who have always wondered, how did Faith look? Like a walking goddess — you know, like JLo, without the attitude.

Now I could go all allegorical on you and imagine some deep and meaningful conversation with Faith…

But I really did meet Faith. And she’s a PhD candidate at Northwestern University in Chicago. Young and vibrant, Faith turned out to be wise beyond her years. And we had a surprisingly deep and meaningful conversation on our hour plus some flight from Chicago to DC the other day.

I walked away from meeting Faith with more faith, and that’s what I want to tell you about.

Faith comes from a family that didn’t have many things, and couldn’t provide Faith with many opportunities. But a great one fell in her lap when she was 14 — she got assigned a Big Sister.

This Big Sister inspired Faith, coached Faith, believed in Faith.

So Faith decided to try getting into a college, something that no one in her family had ever done.

And she got in.

And excelled.

And kept going.

And now Faith is a PhD candidate who hopes to use her training to help the community she came from.

She’s got vision, she’s got direction, and she’s got hope.

She’s Faith.

Our conversation was so powerful that I noticed the people across the aisle straining to catch our chat. What did we discuss? We talked about fears, and redefining oneself. We talked about what it’s like to be highly educated in a family made up of people who are not. We talked about how relationships work and how they fall apart. We talked about what women need to do to preserve their identities and their options while in relationships. We talked about books that have been important to our lives, and meaningful quotes. We talked about the past and we talked about the future. We talked about what we believe about the world. We talked about faith.

The plane touched down and we left each other with a smile and a wave. And as Faith walked away, down the airport hallway toward whatever’s next for her, I said a little prayer of thanksgiving. Thanks to that Big Sister who reached a hand out to a promising young girl, and thanks to all the other hands that have helped her along the way. Thanks to Faith who could have made other choices about the direction of her life but hasn’t. And thanks to Providence for placing us side-by-side on that airplane.

Because I walked away from my meeting with Faith renewed, restored and hopeful. Meeting Faith helped me remember that people touch people in the most unexpected and important ways. That people, by and large, are good and generous. That strangers are simply friends I haven’t met yet.

Yes, I met Faith on an airplane. Where I least expected her. Which just might be the most important lesson of all.