Bloom in the Cracks
A weed grows at the end of my driveway where it crosses the sidewalk into the street. One day it sprouts white flowers. It is small, and few if any people will notice it or care. But it’s beautiful–and stubbornly determined.
It is completely surrounded and wedged in by slabs of concrete—not a good place to be planted, but it is. So it grows anyway in the little dirt it finds between the slabs and with the little water spared by the arid sky.
As I take the photo, a friendly sheriff’s deputy stops his car and asks if I’m okay. He can’t imagine why Pastor Peter is on one knee at the base of his driveway.
“Thank you, sir. I’m just taking a photo of this little flower.” And because it does appear strange, I begin to offer him an insight for life based on a flower growing between two slabs of concrete—but before I finish my first sentence, he drives off, apparently satisfied that the pastor hasn’t lost his mind or his physical strength.
Do you ever feel like this flower? Small yet proudly beautiful. Resilient yet vulnerable. Stubbornly doing its thing yet not sure about the future. Ignored by most yet appreciated by a few.
They say bloom where you’re planted. So, best to get on with it—even if you feel as if your life is wedged in by concrete.
Even if you’re small.
Even if you go unnoticed.
A flower like this won’t last forever. None of us will. So bloom as well as you can with what you’ve got, right here and right now.
A flower like this will do best if it’s transplanted into a pretty pot with good soil. If the chance comes, take it. If not, remember that God gives the sun and the occasional rain no matter where we’re planted.
So bloom even in the cracks. And do it boldly.