the blossoming

a love letter to my Creator

I’ve been wrestling with this post for the past month now. Words seemed to flow in a sporadic stream that kept leading to dead ends. It felt like everything was building up to this piece, the blossoming, and that I had to write about something utterly amazing just to somehow do justice to everything that He has done in my life over the last 8 weeks.

I strived to write something that would wow people. I strived to prove that I am doing better than before. I strived to show that He has been working in my life. But the thing about striving is that it is totally based on what I do in my own strength. And I cannot begin to write anything of worth in my own strength. The place I needed to get to was surrender: that’s where God’s abundant life flows like an unending stream.

A few months back I wrote a post, the abiding, on God’s heart for us. The love letters He sends us everyday just in the hope that if we notice one we’ll know just how loved and pursued we are by Him.

This post is a love letter to my Creator.

A testament to what happens when you notice all the little things He does and you simply delight in Him, when the striving ceases and you know that pure joy comes only from knowing Him. That’s what caused the leaves to finally grow back and for fragrant flowers to blossom after the pruning: me being captivated by all that He is and all that He is doing. Utterly in love.

A part of this revelation came from one night in August when I found myself in tears, sitting cross-legged on my bed in my university dorm room. After overcoming the last 6 months and finally being in a place where I was experiencing abundant life in all it’s goodness, I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t content. I still felt myself constantly looking forward to the next social, the next weekend, the next break. I was living my university dream: waking up each day walking the oak-lined streets, studying a degree that incorporates everything I love (maybe not business management, but still, it’s not even that bad) and making memories with friends that I know I will animatedly recite to my kids one day. I just couldn’t make sense of it: surely the direct result of all this should be contentment?

He is so gracious to meet us where we are at and although I didn’t know it in that moment on that one night in August, He was doing a deep work in my heart.

The following morning I attended a women’s conference and I sat in on a talk about intimacy with Jesus. Lo and behold the entire talk was about contentment. I sat there with a surprised joy in my heart: my Father had heard my prayer.

It’s funny because going into the talk I didn’t expect it to be about contentment, but looking back now I see no way that it couldn’t have been. Intimacy with Him and knowing Him is synonymous with being content in this life.

The psalmist in Psalm 63 knew this well. I’ve always been in awe of the raw audacity of emotion that lies within this psalm. The particular verse that gets me every time is psalm 63:3 (although I recommend reading the whole thing, it’s beautiful).

Knowing Him and being loved by Him is the most audaciously beautiful thing I have ever experienced. To look back on every season of my life, even the things that happened before I was born, and seeing how it all speaks loudly of His goodness.

This abundant life is abundant because I get to spend everyday and eternity getting to know this love that has so graciously saved me in ways I see daily and ways I will never even know.

There is a quote that I always refer back to when thinking of finding contentment in Him:

I really don’t feel I can say much more to add to this quote. It just perfectly sums up what I believe true contentment to be.

May my longing, my aching, for Him never cease.

So this post is my love letter to my Gardener, Father and Best Friend.

In the moments when the darkness felt tangible, it wasn’t even dark to You.

And the times when You so graciously held my hand as I mourned the fallen branches,

You didn’t once shy away from all my questioning.

Instead You built me up,

as patiently as only the Gardener can,

watering and weeding my heart until the time was right.

In the span of all this my eyes were turned from what was lost in the dust to You.

Waiting on Your every move.

Just in awe.

And then one day, after some time, there was colour.

The most incredible flowers started to unfurl in the furthest corners of my heart.

Their golden petals a perfect work of Your hands.

But it’s not the flowers that gave me joy.

It’s that I know now that even without them,

knowing You is all I want.