Surviving the storms of life

 

    I found an old bucket in the woods and planted a mum in it. Over the years, the roots of this plant have been buried under snow, frozen in subzero temperatures, covered with ice and pummelled with rain. Yet, every spring, I see bits of green peeking through the soil, and it grows and thrives. 

    Last year it was leggy and about four-feet tall but still pretty and loaded with yellow blooms. This year, my beloved gave it some attention by pinching it back, and it is more beautiful than ever. 

    This flower is resilient; it perseveres; it survives every storm, no matter how severe, and comes out smelling like a mum. I want to be like this flower. I want to survive the storms, and after they pass over, bloom again. I am not quite there yet, but maybe I will be, someday.