It was a typical Wednesday morning. Coffee brewed, quiet
time done, hair straight, iPod in pocket, ready to head off to work. Already
running late, I grabbed my lunch and swung open the front door. Before my right foot could step out the door,
my path was cut off by a single, bright orange daisy on the doorstep.
“Ooooh, how cheesy!! Probably from one of the roommates’
boyfriends,” was my first thought.
I picked up the flower, wrapped nicely in plastic wrap and a
matching ribbon. Inserted by the stem was a small white paper that read,“Vicky—rooting for you. Love, ICA.”
“What the hell. It’s for me?”
After an awkward pause (yes, I have awkward moments when I'm alone), my eyes flooded with tears. “Stupid flower. Why am I crying?!”
I walked to my car with the flower and kept crying. I
started the engine and drove down Shattuck Ave. Each traffic light was blurred
as the tears kept filling my eyes. Whenever I was stopped, I had to wipe my
face with my fingers and take a huge breath. And then I’d start tearing up
again. All the way to work…
I couldn’t believe it. Flowers make me cry!?! A FLOWER?!
What was wrong with me?
Looking back on that morning, I think the flower was this:
“Therefore the Lord waits to be gracious to you,
And therefore he exalts himself to show mercy to you.”
Isaiah 30:18
God was waiting to shower me with grace. He had to wait for
the perfect time, a time when my heart was ready to receive it.
About a month ago, it was Easter weekend 2013. I was in the
car with my parents, driving back up to the Bay Area from SLO. In silence, I
started to think about the recent events. Just two days prior, I had gotten
rejected by schools 15 and 16 of 17 medical schools. Four days prior, I found
myself sobbing in front of the toilet as I threw up a bottle of wine because I was
so heartbroken over my past with guys. In silence, I started to plan how I would live
my life apart from God. I was done following Jesus.
My mom caught a glimpse of my dark countenance through the
sideview mirror.
“Why are you so sad?”
Tears started again. I remained silent.
5 minutes later, my dad asked me again, “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t want to follow God anymore. It’s too hard.”
Here I was, telling my dad, that I didn’t want to follow God
anymore. This is the dad who told me before that the only thing he ever wanted
for his daughter was for me to know God.
My dad jokingly started, “Hey, look at Jesus! He went to the
cross. And Paul, he went to jail. And all the disciples! Look at how they died.”
In utter despair, I started to sob even more. I angrily replied, “That’s because they were
convinced that God actually loved them.”
For the past eight years, life has not gone according to my
little agenda. And being the ESTJ perfectionist that I am, it has killed me.
Medical school was the last thing in my long list of life plans that I had made
for myself before coming to college, and that dream had slowly died this past
year. Academics, music, physical shape, dating life, graduate school…all didn’t
go according to plan, and God had allowed my identity in these things to slowly
die.
It’s weird though, as much as I thought that I was done with
God that evening in the car with my parents, Jesus was totally fighting for me.
As it hit me that my plans were totally dead and I had nothing left, the Spirit
gave me these words:
“Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls
into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.
Whoever loves his life loses it, and whoever hates his life in this world will
keep it for eternal life.” John 12:24-25
As that verse came to my heart, the sound of rain slowly
calmed my anger. Even though I didn’t even have the desire to obey God anymore,
His Word still burned in my soul. Tears continued to stroll down my eyes as I
realized…
God was never going
to let me go.
On the morning of Easter, I went to church alone in the
city. I bet the dude sitting next to me thought I was crazy because I was
crying through the entire message. But it was a beautiful morning, a beautiful Easter
message.
God hadn’t died for me just to make me a better person. Jesus
wasn’t my Savior because I had a great plan for my life.
Jesus came to make my dead self alive.
And so, this is where I was when that flower came.
A couple weeks later, medical school number 17 of 17 gave me
the final no. By His grace, I didn’t cry a river. It’s going to be okay.
A day later after the final rejection, Moon secretly gave me
a flower and put it in my room. It hadn’t budded yet, so I wasn’t sure what the
flower would look like. A couple days later, the flower hadn’t opened, but instead
the stem had wilted in my beer bottle vase. I ran out of my room and showed
Moon the wilted flower in giggles.
We took a chopstick and used a rubber band to secure the wilted
flower upright. So ghetto! At least we’d try to save it.
“The florist said it would open!”
“Hahahahhahaha, it’s okay. We’ll see…”
This morning, I was getting ready for work again, and I
caught a glimpse of the unbudded, wilted flower, and OH GLORY GLORY. It was
open. The explosion of color seemed to yell, “Boo yea! I’m alive!”
My heart lept with joy. It was so weird. I never knew
flowers could bring so much emotion.
I like this flower a lot though, because the SUPER ghetto chopstick
that we used to hold up that flower is so similar to what I’ve experienced this
past month. Honestly, my outlook on life had become quite colorless. My mood
had wilted, I didn’t think there was much to hope for.
But it was people like Moon, the small group girls, my
church family, my sister and parents, who propped me back up, who turned me to
Jesus, who caused my heart to bloom with worship once again.
It’s hard to die to ourselves. I didn’t choose it for
myself, but God allowed it so that I would live. I think we’ll end up at one
point thinking that we have lost everything. I certainly thought I did, but the whole time, He chose to be mindful of me.
It was in losing His Son that God gained the salvation of
the world. He does things for greater glory, deeper purpose. Difficult times are in His love, and it is His crazy love has
led me thus far. I have a lot to be grateful for. I deserve hell, yet He gave me life.
This is my God.
