Maybe the reason I root for those lilies so strongly each year is because I feel like we're kindred spirits. When we moved into this house, I felt like that empty flower bed; sun-bleached chip mulch surrounded by nothing but cheap edging that was brittle and cracked. To make things worse, there was NOTHING inside of any use. Sure there were things deep down in me, desires I knew had once been there, but none of it was evident. Honestly, I didn't even know if it had been real. But slowly, green began to push itself out of the ground. Against what I had even believed for myself, God began growing things in my heart that I really didn't think were possible. Forgiveness, understanding. Then when it was evident that there was, in fact, fruit, God transplanted me to a place where I could be taken care of, multiplied, and nourished. I might have been dormant for a season, but I wasn't dead. I wasn't useless, I was simply changing.
One of my friends likened it to this- between the time a caterpillar builds its cocoon and when it emerges a butterfly, it looks like neither. The transformation process isn't always what we think it is. That's where I was- in the middle of the transformation. And just like you can't just glue wings on a caterpillar and call it a butterfly, God couldn't have just added something else to my life without transforming what was already there into something new.
Did it hurt? Yep, even sucked at times. Did I probably make it last a lot longer than it needed to. Almost certainly. I'm as stubborn as a mule. But I just have to believe that there can't be house renovations without a little demolition. And I am definitely happier about the remodeled me than the one before.