Tulips Will Bloom

Eye opening moments are bliss.  From time to time, God graces us with the ability to actually see.  It is a tremendous gift, one we aren’t worthy of or deserving.  Something truly remarkable, He parts our physical cloud, a veil, dawning on us lightly, like the soft pitter-patter of angel feet gently pirouetting on our shoulders.  More profound than the physical ability to perceive by things by sight, the actual wavelengths traveling into the eye and retina, the Lord opens the heart. . . which is far better, and when the heart gets the slightest grasp of what the Lord is revealing to us, we relish in it.  Real sight has occurred.  We are overtaken by eyes being truly opened.

I had one of those moments this week.

For those of you in blended families, you know there is a learning curve to the scene at your home that one cannot explain unless actually entrenched in it. . . perhaps one who has gone through it, perhaps one that has enjoyed making it to the other side.  A blended family, a unit bonded together, is something hard to attain.  I’m not saying it’s bad, impossible, or out of reach. . . it’s just that there’s a unique set of experiences that only those going through it can relate to.  Little things here and there must be relearned, adjusted to, and adapted.  Deep breaths must be taken.  Reason and patience are essential.

We’ve most likely all heard horror stories.

Well. . . I can’t say that my family hasn’t been excluded from some tough moments of trial and error.  We’ve gone through the ringer just like everybody else in those shoes.  We’ve been irritated by things that weren’t likely to happen before our families joined together.  I’m sure you who are currently blending can relate.  Some typical adventures of conflict might sound something to this nature:

• “We’re used to eating on the go.  You always want to sit down for supper.  My kids aren’t used to that.  How can you expect me to get everybody to change?”
• “Saturdays are the days that we relax.  Why are you always wanting to get all these jobs done when it’s the day we always kicked back?  Can’t you just be easy for a day?  It was so nice before.”
• “I worked all afternoon making a special dinner for everybody.  Nobody told me there was soccer tonight.  Can’t you all just write your events on the calendar so I know what is going on?  How am I supposed to meet these constantly changing needs? Nobody communicates!  Why can’t you people communicate?”
• “Mom, he just snuck into my room and got into my stuff.  Can’t you keep them out so we can have some privacy?”

Just some illustrations like these let us peek into the lives of those faced with the difficult challenge of family blending.  A challenge?  You call it a challenge?  Maybe a better description would be a monumental task!  Family blending can be extremely difficult.

I’ve often thought of taking my supper out into the treehouse to eat alone lol.

Today, however, it is not my intentions to sit and dwell on the difficulties that lie ahead.  You and I will still have plenty of them.  Yes, it is hard.  Trust me, I get it. Yes, there are plenty of hurdles, roadblocks.  But yes, it can be done.  Today, I want to encourage you with the same encouragement that God opened my eyes up with this week.  Please take heart.  Blending can occur.  When it does, it is sweeter than honey.

My first wife was diagnosed with stomach cancer in 2006.  It was sometime during the struggle of running to and from hospitals and doctors, a long journey of chemotherapy, that I decided to plop a tulip in the ground beside maple tree.  I’m not even sure where it came from.  Most likely I simply needed to find a home for it.  I think it might have been one of those tulips people give you for Easter, and once Easter is over, you need to figure out where to plant it.  

Each year that tulip pokes up through the ground.  Each year I’ve looked at those broad leaves, leaves who are undeniably tulip, and each year they end up curling and withering when spring is over.  Each year I glance its way, hoping to see some color.  But to my recollection, I’m not sure it has ever bloomed.

Now make no mistake about it, my life since 2006 has not been easy.  There’s been plenty.  Sickness, hardship, troubles I never saw coming, a brain injury. . . no, life hasn’t been easy at all.  There have been plenty of times that I could have thrown in the towel.

Boy am I glad that God didn’t let me.

This spring, almost fifteen years later, I was sitting in our kitchen.  My wife, Faerie, was running around trying to keep a house of pirates functioning (she’s got her work cut out for her).  The blended band of brothers were doing normal life.  The dog was most likely scratching at the door wanting out.  But when I looked, I saw something remarkable.

Out the kitchen window, graced with sunlight, there were three bright blooms of beauty.

It instantly took me back like a whoosh from the past.  I remembered planting those tulips.  I can remember being out in the yard while my wife and kids were running around making the best of what life we had.  I remembered Becca, my first wife, who would have loved to see them bloom.  I missed her.  The flowers could have helped brighten my mood through all the years.  But they never wanted to show.  

I could remember the years tick by that hopes gave way to disappointment as nothing ever became of the investment I made to the soil.  

Now, sitting at the kitchen table, I had the heartache of the past fifteen years of struggle and hardship flash forward into the present day.  All those years.  All the burdens I carried.  All the desire I had to simply have a whole and functioning family.  All those years I simply wanted a family of health.  I wanted my heart and kid’s hearts to beat again without pain.  I wanted joy.  I wanted the life I was sure God wanted for me as well.  All the brokenness of loss clashed with the hope of a future.  There were still things I was hoping for, other relationships I'm hoping still come around. I held so much expectation and hope that one day I could have all that had been lost before.  But when would it come?

And here I was.  Sitting in my kitchen.  Married to a diamond of the brightest kind.  One with such respect and honor for my past.  A heart of gold that loved my biological children as her own.  What a rare and precious gem.  And then there is my stepson.  A ball of energy.  One who makes me bounce inside.  The life he enjoys as I love him the same as the rest.  There was Brad, Justin, my biological sons.  A smile forming on their faces as God unfolds His faithfulness.

Yes, we are a blended family.

One in progress.  One making progress.  One bonded in ways I didn’t think possible. We now share joys I didn't know were possible.

And I sat there in the kitchen.  Becca would have smiled, I’m sure.  She’d be happy knowing the same spirit, love, and attitude she had for our children was shared by another with her same likeness.  Faerie often prays that she would be able to love with that same love.

Maybe God’s way of expressing it was to let the flower of fifteen years bloom.

Three blooms.

My challenge to you today is simple.  Don’t give up.  If you are a family trying to blend, a family that is bonded by God but fighting the struggles that are bound to be heading your way. . . don’t give up.  God is good.  He knows what he’s doing.  Keep praying.  Keep seeking Him.  Get some help.  There’s no shame in reaching out.  The end goal is worth the effort it takes to get there.  When it happens, it will taste sweeter than honey, or if you are a man who likes to grill. . . a thick juicy steak.

Ephesians 3:20-21

Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen.

I’m just a man who knows to ask Jesus for help.

He is beyond faithful.

He holds the seeds, the fields, the flowers.

He works things in ways you never thought possible.

My challenge to you is to never let go.

Hang on.

With Him, your tulips will bloom.

By Chuck Carr