Hope

At the beginning of the summer I planted about a half dozen Gerber daisies in our little flower bed, along with the petunias and herbs and geraniums. I love their cheerfulness and their bright, bright colors.

But the daisies never really bloomed. Maybe there was too much shade, or maybe the soil wasn't right for them, but for months their were no blooms from any of the plants -- not the sunny yellow or the creamy white, nor the orange, the pink or the crimson.

And now, at the close of the summer, when I long ago given up on any daisies, a crimson flower has bloomed.

And to me, this flower is a symbol of hope. Hope that the end is never when we think it is. Hope that joy comes when you expect it least. Hope that we can never truly know what could or might happen next. Hope that even what seems to be stunted and broken can still bloom again.