The Red and Yellow Flower

At our old house in Fedha, we had a very decent sized yard. In this yard, there were bushes and trees, grass and vegetables, and even a few flowers. There were some yellow flowers near my bedroom window and a pink flowering tree near the kitchen window, and sometimes I liked to just go walk around the yard and look at the different flower. By far my favorite flower was a bright red and yellow one that grew next to the driveway near the water spigot and the porch.

It was such a pretty flower. Sometimes, when I would sit on the porch to have breakfast or to pray or to watch the clouds go by, I would look over and just look at how pretty the flower was and it really would make my heart smile a little bit. It was just my favorite flower. I really didn’t have a good reason why it was my favorite. I just thought it was exceptionally pretty.

One day, the owner of the house came to repave the driveway. Years and years of wear and tear had created little gardens within the cracks of the driveway and it was badly in need of repaving. Massive trucks came rumbling in like an earthquake and they started offloading mountains of rocks, sand, and cement to prepare for building. It was a long day and dust flew all over the place. When they finally finished, I realized they had placed an entire mountain of gravel on top of my favorite flower.

I was very sad by this. Of all places in the yard they could put the pile of gravel, it had to be on top of my favorite flower. The repaving took weeks. I don’t remember how many weeks it was, but it felt like forever. Maybe forever and a half now that I think about it.

When they finally finished, someone came by to pick up the rest of the gravel and sand and cement. The mountain was finally lifted from the grave of my favorite flower. I tore the rest of the gravel away from it and I looked at the strangled bits of stem that remained and mourned the loss of the beautiful thing.

A few weeks later, I was more than surprised when I glanced to the side of the yard and noticed a little green stem poking up from where the flower had been. I immediately starting watering it, just to help it along a little bit. A few weeks later, it began to unfurl leaves and then red started peaking out of its head. Then it fully bloomed again with that same glorious red and yellow flower.

When we moved to our new house, I had Martin dig up some of the roots of it and replant it at our new house here in Jamhuri. He did and sure enough, they took root and eventually bloomed even here and even after a long truck ride across the city.

Now I am happy when I look out the back window and just past the vegetable patch and underneath the clothesline, I see the happy little red and yellow flowers blooming in the back.

I’ve seen the same flower growing anywhere and everywhere around the city-next to Nakumatt, in the gutter near Toi, in people’s gardens and just on the side of the road. They remind me of pigeons. They can really survive anywhere. That just makes me like them more. They can take root and bloom no matter what circumstances they are in. That just makes it even more my favorite flower. I don’t know their name and I don’t really care. It just makes my heart smile a little whenever I see them growing cause I know that despite their elegant appearance, inside they are exceptionally hardcore.

I thought of my favorite flower last week while listening to a sermon from home online. Our pastor at my home church started going through the book of James awhile ago. I am a few weeks behind so I just got around to listening to the message on James 1:2-4, “Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work in you so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.”

Perseverance in the midst of trials. It reminded me so much of my favorite flower.

I pray God makes me like that flower, where no matter how many piles of rocks are put on top of me, no matter how many days I go without seeing the sun, I still never give up hope that one day the rocks will be gone. I pray that after the time of darkness has passed, and after the weight is lifted, I am able to still bloom just as beautifully as before, or even more so, having persevered in an impossible situation and overcome.

My fiancé gave me a name in his language a few months ago. “Acirocan,” he said, “because it means perseverance in Alur and that is one trait I have really seen in you.” Where did that come from? I guess from all the trials and tests of faith that have been piled on top of me again and again and again the past few years. How God has been working at developing my faith! How many times and in how many ways has God been testing me and then continues to come through for me! And how many million more times does He have to reteach me the same lessons of faith over and over again before my doubting, fearful heart finally trusts Him!

Yes, I pray that God continues to make me like that flower.