A dear friend of mine told me a story that’s stuck with me weeks after I first heard it. It involved a mom whose daughter was asked why she wasn’t performing as well as her siblings had. A fun, light-hearted, bright girl, she relished life and was the joy of everyone, except apparently, those who thought she should be doing more. Wisely, the mother announced, “She’ll bloom when she’s ready.” Years later, bloom she did and she fit right in with her accomplished siblings.
I have spent my life surrounded by people who are in various stages of maturation, myself included. Growing up, even though I was the second born and three years behind my older brother, oodles of people thought I was the oldest. Either I behaved older than my age or he, er, didn’t behave his age. No matter, we both turned out just fine.
It’s fascinating to see how God matures us. For some, it comes steadily, following what human development specialists would label ‘normal’. For others, they experience spurts and stalls as they navigate life. It wasn’t until I was much older that I realized that when I was in college, I was an emotional kindergartner and now, I feel like I’m having teenage pangs sometimes. So, is that odd? Maybe. I don’t really care though. I think it’s fun to run around chasing little kids. It’s fun to talk to teenagers who think they’ve got the world cornered. It’s also fun to tell my 60 year friend about some internet tricks. Whatever it is, it feeds me and adds another piece to my puzzle.
But golly, I can confuse myself. Why do I think that, say that, wish that? If I had my way, I’d be done blooming and just be fragrant. That’s not always the case. However, I’m so thankful that He’s picked my growth pace. I wonder about it sometimes, but I also trust Him. When I’m impatient with myself & wonder why I’m not performing like my ‘siblings’, I have to focus maybe just on the gifts of pretty petals or the great soil in which I’m planted. And maybe He’s the one who has to reassure me that I’ll bloom when He tells me I’m ready.