In December of 2014, we were given a small poinsettia plant
- a traditional holiday gift from a dear friend. Not long after, its leaves
started curling and falling off as they often do at the end of the season. But unlike my response to similar plants in years past, I
didn’t discard this poinsettia. Instead, I
placed it by a sunny window with other houseplants, and watered it.
All through the spring it held on. Slowly, new leaves appeared. In the summer I began to wonder what would
happen if I kept it until Christmas of 2015?
A neighbor cared for it while we were gone during the month of
October. Soon after
Thanksgiving, I was delighted to discover a few very small red leaves
interspersed here and there between green ones. A small but unmistakable victory!
However, that’s not the end of the story.
I continued to water this now-precious poinsettia, having
become somehow attached to it in life-giving ways. Yes, I gave it minimal care - but it also
strangely encouraged me with its perseverance.
Just this week a full “bloom” appeared unexpectedly as a
surprise, reminding me that I can’t predict or coerce beauty, only behold its
splendor with awe. It is small compared
with its original “blooms,” and yet I think it especially striking in a unique,
unexplainable, and inspiring way.
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