My guest didn’t know that I am not a plant nurturer. I prefer cut flowers. Enjoy and toss.

She smiled and handed me a clay pot containing a large bulb sprouting thick green tongues. She was new to our family gatherings and was trying to express gratitude for my hospitality, the thing I practice awkwardly and infrequently.

She gave me an item that came with expectations, required care and probably a report back to her. She bestowed a gift that would grow, one I had to wait for. I was told it would bloom by Christmas. Hmph! Doubtful, I placed it at the kitchen window as she suggested. Soon after, I noticed one of the stalks had a puffed pod, an indication that something might be happening.

What was the plant’s name? Sounded like Armadillo. Ama . . . Amaryllis! The next day, the pod cracked open like a nut. Red peered out. Amaryllis drew me in. Every day, I checked on her, like a child expecting results from a science experiment.

Life can become mundane, drained of color. It feels like you’re holding a bouquet, and people keep walking up and snatching a flower out until there are none left except the droopy one. Well, that’s what happened to me. The first plucking occurred when I frowned with displeasure at the gifts I was giving — towels, gift cards, and dog treats. My adult children knew what was wrapped because they had given me a list. I wanted them to respond with the same enthusiasm as when they were kids and were surprised with a go-cart for cruising around the farm.

The second plucking occurred when my brother informed me that he was hosting the family Christmas gathering on a Sunday. Uh-oh. I’d lost control. Plus, when would I go to church? Anxious thoughts churned over our drive to the city via a detour route with a backseat driver.

The third plucking occurred when I realized I’d be alone on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day again. My children are loving, present for the holidays, and spend quality time with me. But understandably, they now split their time between me and the relatives of their mates. I’d never been without family on Christmas Day. I knew it happened to other people, but a sense of loss niggled me.Amid all the plucking of my wilted bouquet, I kept greeting the Amaryllis each morning as she sunned by the window. I soon saw three then four scarlet blooms with stamens streaming like fountains. It was a festival of deep-throated trumpets and flamenco dancing skirts! God thrilled me with anticipation, wonder, and delight!

As the psalmist says, “Your beauty and love chase after me every day of my life” (Psalm 23:6 MSG). God shifted my perspective, showing me the positives, and I have the stretch marks to prove it. My children and I enjoyed a relaxed and intimate gathering. I didn’t have to do as much cooking and didn’t have as much prep and clean up. All my extended family were able to gather and enjoy my brother’s homemade ice cream. I was even able to attend Christmas Eve service.

Sometimes what you receive is far more satisfying than what you requested. As I waited for the Amaryllis to grow, God, the Master Gardener, waits for me to grow. The Amaryllis drew me in. Likewise, God draws us in to reveal His wonder. A vibrant red — a gift from His heart to mine, from His heart to ours.