Some odd bushes ended up in our yard after the landscapers did their work. They were foreign to me: scrawny, appearing noncommittal as they swayed with the wind. They held dark bulbs at the end, so dark that I couldn’t tell if they were alive or dead. As I began watering, I sensed my impatience. I felt unimpressed, holding to my preference for peonies, dahlias, roses, and other more theatrical plants.

What was the point, I wondered, to the time and energy spent caring for such little things? What were they? And, whatever they were, why wouldn’t they hurry up and be it?

I watered the plants. The sun rose and fell. Over days and weeks, they began to open, little yellow flowers, almost spiteful against their green wiry branches, insisting on perkiness and sunshine when their surroundings were dark. In fact, they’ve kept their blooms consistently for months.

It occurred to me: God cares even about the smallest blooms.

These plants didn’t offer an explanation, and they certainly didn’t present the way I expected, but they did as they were designed to do. In the quiet under my critical gaze, they made their progress, pushing out into the world, right on time, in their own way.

This point of tension I felt about an inanimate plant is one which stews within myself. What is the point of the small, seemingly insignificant choices and tasks that make up my days? Why can’t everything hold the grandeur of a peony, a lily, a wedding, an accomplishment?

I don’t consider myself a plant girl, so these lessons feel off-putting, uncharacteristic for how I interact with the Lord and with myself. All the same, as I care for the little things in front of me, I understand more and more that it is the work God would have me do: faithfully tending, showing up to the work when no one is watching, even if the bloom doesn’t satisfy the critic.

Now, a few weeks removed, these plants have proven themselves to have the most consistent blooms in the yard, so long as they’ve gotten their share of shade and enough water. That’s how we are, isn’t it? Able to make the little things worthwhile, so long as we receive the care we need?

Would I go out of my way to plant these again? Probably not. But if they’re going to stick it out, they can stay; and I want to have that same attitude toward the unseemly but true things that bring life to me.

With this perspective, I’m excited to announce a few updates coming in October. I’ve done some quiet work over the last few weeks to put together new content and opportunities for you! Hopefully the small blooms I have to offer will serve you as they’ve been a blessing to me.

First, I recently started a public Instagram account I’ll use to share posts. This is a new practice for me and feels a bit scary, but it’s exciting! I can’t wait to share more encouragement with more people.

I’m also in the process of setting up a monthly email with more content to encourage you. I’ll share my book reviews from the previous month’s reading, note some things I’m learning, and give a peek into what I anticipate for the coming days. What would you like to read from me? Any requests or questions? Comment or message me and I’ll gladly consider how to better serve you!

October will also welcome a new series, “Dear Athlete.” I played basketball through college, worked on a collegiate staff, and now coach in high school. As a former player and as a coach who experienced her share of successes and made her share of mistakes, I want to reach out with some encouragement directly to those in the sport world. Circumstances surrounding competition may seem hazy and unpredictable (like most of life in a pandemic), but the truths about self, relationship, and God don’t change. I think we can use that reminder.

That’s the news! October promises to be another unique month, not only for 2020, but also for life as a whole as we continue to press on through these strange times. I hope you stay well and find hope and joy to keep your head up. Let’s see what God has in store, shall we?

Thanks for reading,

Rebekah