Fire poppies are fascinating. They are rare and can be found growing only after wildfires in California. Smoke triggers the germination of their seed. They are nature’s way of teaching us that beautiful things can grow even after everything has been burned to the ground.
Beauty rises from the ashes.
In my discipleship group this week, we reflected on how life is a cycle of death and resurrection. We would like it to be more of a steady rise to greatness, but in reality we die, and then rise, only to later find more ways we have to die, and then we rise again.
I’m in a season of resurrection.
It’s slow but steady.
New friends. New callings. Garden blooming. Trees fruiting.
There are seven chirping baby chickens in my coop - new life!- another sign from heaven of resurrection.
My bipolar ascent into mania was a lot like a wildfire that burned everything to the ground. A true ascent into madness. They say it’s like your brain is on fire, so much so that it can cause long-term brain damage. It was a wild high that preceded the worst depression I have ever had in my life, making me scarcely functional for over a year. Add to that the loss of friends, a pandemic, and a move to a new city where we knew no one - and things sure felt burned to the ground.
But like the fire poppy, beautiful things of mine have begun to grow again on the scorched earth, and for that I am truly grateful.
But I worry a lot.
I worry that my meds will stop working, that I’ll go up high in the sky or down low into the pit again. I worry that my cognitive abilities and short-term memory are permanently impaired. I worry that I’m just a shell of who I used to be. I worry about the fragility of everything everywhere.
Jesus was teaching about worry when he said, “So don’t worry, for your Father cares deeply about even the smallest detail of your life” (Matthew 10:30-31).
The smallest detail.
That means he cares about my brain cells, the hormones and things that keep me balanced. And he cares about my garden and my chickens and my boys and my food. He cares about fire poppies blooming and all the little things.
It’s weird to me how you can’t hold onto health or happiness. When it’s here, you can’t store it up and keep it for later. You can only be grateful for it, moment by moment. You can only receive it and let it flow like a river. Any attempts to hold onto it, to claw your nails into it, just ruin it.
Give us this day our daily bread. Enough for today, and tomorrow will worry about itself.
I am in a resurrection season. What kind of season is yours right now?
Maybe you are grieving.
Maybe you are waiting.
Maybe you are working.
Maybe you are rejoicing.
Maybe you are rising from the ashes.
Whatever the season, I hope you can receive the goodness of God as it flows to you. I hope you can find the fire poppies sprouting up from the burned ground. I hope you can rest in Jesus who cares deeply about the smallest details of your life.
