An Unexpected Blooming

There’s a small orchid plant sitting snug in its base by our kitchen sink. My husband keeps pointing out the plant, showing me the slow growth progress that’s been made over the winter weeks. What started with five green buds tightly shut has transformed into a beautiful arrangement of white flowers with delicate pink centers that have opened over the course of time. Eric would point at one of the buds plumping, note the small shoots of petals beginning to pull apart, saying the bloom is coming, and to take notice over the next few days. And I do. Pay attention. Notice the shift on the sticks of branches, the slow unfurling, the beauty coming into itself despite being barren when all looked like nothing would grow again. It was a thing of beauty, to keep discovering the growth.

The thing is, I’ve been struggling with crippling anxiety again over these last few months. I’ve slogged through the days and nights, battled my mind and gripped tight to truth, God’s Word, and the evidence around me that tell me things are OK. I’ve needed these petals blossoming in the bleak winter, to remind me that like the buds, I, too, am coming into something good.

This is the way with our healing. It often comes slow, imperceivable. We are caught off guard when the weeks go by and we realize we are better off than we were the days before. It’s often not an overnight healing, but a steady, ordinary deliverance that gradually becomes less of an emergency and emerges into something solid that we can stake a hold to in our hearts.

We watch and wait and notice the small changes.

In the healing journey, I’ve noticed a few things:

Healing takes time.

Like the orchid, God does work in an organic, often everyday timeline. It doesn’t happen all at once. Many times, we are unable to see a growth or healing until we observe that something is different—we have a little more energy, our thoughts seem a bit clearer, we were able to get good work in for the day or do the dishes without overwhelm.

Healing is not linear.

It’s not a continual upward trajectory. Some days will feel like a setback. But in the wide scope of things, look at the whole, not just the microscopic. Our faith is like this, too. Dips and ascent, doubt and belief, worry and wisdom—duality weaves within the waiting, the living. If you feel more down one day, don’t sweat it. Overall, things are good, and they will continue to be.

Healing happens in unexpected ways.

What does healing look like to you? What are you wanting it to be? Perhaps there’s still a little bit of whatever is ailing you lingering, but there is also a resilience that has built as well. If we’re looking to be 100% normal, we may be looking at things in a different way. Our idea of normal may differ, also. Look at where God has brought you, look at His presence and working in your life and lean into it. Healing is happening, though it may look surprising in your eyes.

However your journey, here’s the core of it: healing points to the Healer.

Ultimately, this is where our hearts land, if we search the suffering and seek to dig to the root. The Healer is our anchor, our sunlight, our reminder of what, or who, matters.

No matter what healing looks like, it’s Him in the middle of it all. Because external healing aside, the internal healing within our hearts, our faith, is what He most is after.

To reassess our beliefs about Him, where our fears have overridden our faith, the truth of His character hasn’t changed, and this is the redirection our compass hearts need to set.

The orchid is in full bloom, wide open white petals stretching from their branches. One green bud still waits to unfurl, but it’s a little softer and loose than yesterday. Perhaps it will open within the week. But I keep waiting, watching, knowing one morning I’ll be moving around the kitchen making coffee and waking up, and my eyes will scan and settle on the orchid, double take, notice the presence of white, the flower doing what it is designed to do.

We are all doing what we are designed to do.