Daffodils

Something sinister was said to me last March. It changed my life.

That day, I drifted through a shopping center in a daze. A little girl with long brown hair was selling daffodils and she asked if I wanted a flower for free. I wandered Walmart with it in my hand. Daffodils are a symbol of hope, you see.


My hometown newspaper greets me one morning with this: "Daffodils are extraordinary survivors - protected by their own poison, thriving on neglect and geared to outlive the one who planted them."

Reading this leaves a wry smile on my lips. For God is so intent on giving hope for spring that He has made the daffodil bulb almost impervious to destruction. The thing is poisonous for goodness sake.

They're popping up everywhere now, heralding rebirth. And I long to join in their chorus, for I have prayed dearly for it. Love always hopes, you see.