Small Surrenders

This is a reading that came across my computer from a book called Small Surrenders by Emilie Griffin. It was such an encouraging reading I wanted to share it with my 3D friends. I hope it blesses you as much as it blessed me today. Carol

Are we alert to the mercies that fill our days? -Kathy Coffey

ONE OF THE PRINCIPAL DISCIPLINES OF THE spiritual life is attentiveness: being alert to the simple, often subtle ways that God's grace enters our lives. Often, we have to set aside our anxious preoccupations in order to see that our days are filled with mercies. Or as one hymn puts it, "Morning by morning new mercies I see."

For several weeks now I have been watching an amaryllis plant grow. It is a potted plant, growing indoors from a bulb in an amphora-like pot. There are three of these plants near a window in the room where I write. The pots are made of some kind of plastic, but they look wonderfully like fired clay. On gray days, rainy days, cold days, cold nights, still this green shoot is springing up, and the buds are beginning to swell and bulge, reaching for the light. The green shoots seem to thicken, strengthen, turning into sheaths, with folded leaves pushing upwards. But these amaryllis flowers don't just burst into bloom; at least, not at first. For many days they seem to be on the verge of blooming, bright red petals poking free. Finally, the petals emerge, and there are not one, but four bright crimson flowers, four petals each. And that is only the first of three plants. Two more are beside it, struggling to blossom into life.

There is a small but lovely blessing in all this. The blessing comes not only when the flowers bloom, but when we notice them. To think we could have missed it! This exquisite beauty is right under our noses, but due to the stress and the demands of living, the phone calls, the deadlines, the schedules, the chores, the list-making-because of all these demands we could ignore the beauty within and inside of our daily routine.

Attentiveness is one way we appreciate God's mercies. But attentiveness is just a beginning. Beyond that is a level of reflection or interpretation. Beyond noticing these blooms, I can also compare these blooms to ourselves. First of all, their blooming begins in secret. And for the most part it continues in secret, hidden underground. Not only that, the germination takes time. When we compare ourselves to the amaryllis buds working toward their destiny, we understand the virtue of patience. Weeks, not days, are needed for the amaryllis to bloom. All the more so for us.

And then, one day, the flowers come blazing forth. Their petals are delicate and frail, but they are shot through with bold, imaginative color. They proclaim a kind of victory. They have made a risky journey and have come at last into the light of day. The blooming process of the amaryllis-with all its inner struggle and effort and risk-reminds us of our own journeys. Our soul's journey takes place mostly in hiding, in secret, but at some point it breaks through in visible ways. When I compare myself to the amaryllis, I see how inconstant I am. The amaryllis follows a path of simple obedience. But I am much more wayward. I am easily distracted, full of doubt, subject to discouragement, inclined to wander off track. Yes, I blame this on the human condition. But that's no excuse. When I can, I focus on the simple, straightforward nature of the spiritual path. Kierkegaard says, "Purity of heart is to will one thing." And Eugene Peterson has written a book with a title that speaks volumes about the spiritual life: A Long Obedience in the Same Direction.

For me, the amaryllis plant is a sort of herald. First it reminds me to be attentive, then to be an interpreter of grace. The amaryllis becomes for me a metaphor of obedience and surrender. This flower follows a track that comes from deep within, responding to something encoded in its nature. Lord, I ask, let me follow the simple amaryllis. May I go the way of small surrenders, so my soul may come fully into your glory.