Inside: Sadly, my surprise lilies didn’t flower this summer. But knowing they should be OK next year is a comforting thought in a season of change. ~

Some years, certain plants in my flowerbeds thrive while others struggle. The next year, it could be the other way around. But I’ve always been able to count on my surprise lilies to do exactly what God designed them to do.

In the spring, their foliage pops up, looking similar to the daffodil greenery that appears around the same time. Unlike the daffodils, though, the surprise lilies don’t bloom in this season. Over the next several weeks, their leaves grow—storing up energy for future flowers—and then die back.

Several months later, stark stalks spring up where the foliage used to be, topped in short order by the loveliest pale pink lilies imaginable.

In my yard, some surprise lilies bloom in the latter half of July, while others—including the ones in the front flowerbed—show up a few weeks later. I know this because over the years, they consistently showed up in the background of the first-day-of-school photos I used to take of my daughters.

This year, there were no back-to-school pictures, and no surprise lilies either.

What Happened?

I’d actually forgotten about them until I saw a lone clump at a neighbor’s house. As I gazed at the blank spots in my flowerbeds where the lilies normally pop up, I remembered a few critical facts.

We had a very early spring this year, followed by a late snow that fell right when the surprise lily foliage was growing. The damage was unsightly, so I cut back the spent leaves sooner than usual.

Either they didn’t have time to store up enough blooming energy before I cut them, or the snow itself stunted the growth of the blooms this year.

Whatever the case, I was deeply disappointed. These unique plants have bloomed faithfully every year since I dug up the bulbs near the road by my childhood home and planted them in my yard. (I also had my first-ever encounter with poison ivy during that process, which makes it stand out in my mind even more.)

The Deeper Story

I missed the consistent presence of those pale pink flowers in a season already marked by transitions and new normals. Lilly is now married and living in Northwest Arkansas. Molly will graduate from college—also in Northwest Arkansas—next May. And only God knows where she will be at this time next year.

I’m truly happy about the recent developments and future possibilities in my girls’ lives. Somehow, though, the empty nest feels different this year. Emptier, somehow. Lonelier. And definitely quieter.

At times, it feels like I’m failing to bloom just like the surprise lilies.

Fortunately, Google assures me the lilies should be fine next year. I’m already hoping for no late snows, and you can be sure I will resist every urge to cut back the ugly spent foliage too soon.

As for Me…

At the same time, learning that these sweet plants can bounce back after an off year is oddly comforting as I think about my actual life. I’m in a period of adjusting, for sure, but I’m guessing I’ll find my way forward just like generations of moms before me.

I’m thankful that in my current state of unsettledness—as well as during any season you may find yourself in—my favorite Bible verse still applies: “The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged” (Deuteronomy 31:8).

As my time outside often does, this summer of gardening has reminded me of a few simple truths. Seasons change, landscapes change, and gardeners change too.

Change is hard, even when it’s planned and desired. But what a blessing to remember that the God who never changes is with us through every high and low, every pause and pivot, and every drought and flood.

• • •

How do you feel about change? Has a lack of blooms on any of your plants (in the house or outside) ever evoked emotion in you? Please share in the comments.

♥ Lois

P.S. I’m linking up this week with InstaEncouragements and Let’s Have Coffee.