When we got back to Little Burma Tuesday night, this patch of daffodils were on the path beside our house waiting to greet us. The thing about these particular daffodils is that I've watched them try to bloom for the past three weeks. Their faces have been pinched, pale yellow buds among long green leaves, getting a little brighter and bigger when the temperature reached above 40 degrees, then shrinking back and getting pale when it fell to freezing again. They seemed so eager to shine, but they also knew the time wasn't quite right, and for all their excitement and anticipation, they patiently waited for the perfect time.
There are so many times when I feel like those daffodils, waiting on the edge of my seat, looking anxiously at the future, trying to convince God that I really am ready for the next step, and that the timing is right, and can we please just hurry up and get on with it! But then, my Father... so loving and patient with me... sits me down for a daddy-daughter talk. And he reminds me that he not only has the universe in his hands, but also my life and my time. He has it under control, and I don't need to try to rush forward or make things happen before he has it planned. He knows my heart, he knows my dreams... he knows that, like my daffodils, I am eager to bloom and shine. He also knows my story and what the next chapter holds... and all the chapters after that. So like my daffodils, I choose to trust him, rest in him, and wait on his perfect time.
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