My New Year's Eve blog was about a valiant little amaryllis that began blooming too early. I deemed it crippled for life and hopeless, but was inspired by its tenacity in the face of impossible odds. You can read that first blog by clicking on the picture.
The little flower surprised me. When I thought all was hopeless, it put up a second, glorious head which had
The little flower surprised me. When I thought all was hopeless, it put up a second, glorious head which had
Click on the picture to continue reading the story of the amaryllis that wouldn't give up.four beautiful blooms on it. It was even bigger and more beautiful than the other amaryllis I had, which had not started life so badly.
The moral of the amaryllis story changed. It had started as bloom as if your life depended on it. Do the best you can. An ugly little bloom is better than no bloom at all. Now it became have patience and great things will come. Have the grit to keep on going and what started out badly can still become something beautiful.
But that amaryllis wasn't done teaching me life lessons. When the four blooms had faded, one more, even bigger than the rest, came out of the top. It was almost like a fireworks show: every time I went "ooh, ahh" and thought it was done, another flower arrived. The new message: keep pushing. When you think you've hit the top, you've still got something wonderful to give.
The moral of the amaryllis story changed. It had started as bloom as if your life depended on it. Do the best you can. An ugly little bloom is better than no bloom at all. Now it became have patience and great things will come. Have the grit to keep on going and what started out badly can still become something beautiful.
But that amaryllis wasn't done teaching me life lessons. When the four blooms had faded, one more, even bigger than the rest, came out of the top. It was almost like a fireworks show: every time I went "ooh, ahh" and thought it was done, another flower arrived. The new message: keep pushing. When you think you've hit the top, you've still got something wonderful to give.
The top flower fell off and I stuck it in a glass of water, where it's continued to inspire me. But the plant itself wasn't done. Another bloom came out at the base.
Another flower, another message. This time, I think the flower's telling me that even now, in my old age, I should not give up. I turned 60 last month. I've been trying for 25 years to get a publisher to take on one of my manuscripts. So far, all I've done is pile up rejections.
In 2014, frustrated, I started self-publishing. It felt a little like starting the process crippled; I'd hoped for the help in marketing that a contract with a publisher would provide, and the credibility to have my books accepted in schools. I had to do it all myself. It's been a lot of work, but a lot of people have thanked me for taking that step of faith. The enjoy my books. They've learned a lot while reading them, too.
How about you? Are you blooming where you are planted, in spite of the difficulties that the world throws your way? Be brave, like this little flower. It's my hope that this is the year that the world looks at you and says "ooh, ahh."
Another flower, another message. This time, I think the flower's telling me that even now, in my old age, I should not give up. I turned 60 last month. I've been trying for 25 years to get a publisher to take on one of my manuscripts. So far, all I've done is pile up rejections.
In 2014, frustrated, I started self-publishing. It felt a little like starting the process crippled; I'd hoped for the help in marketing that a contract with a publisher would provide, and the credibility to have my books accepted in schools. I had to do it all myself. It's been a lot of work, but a lot of people have thanked me for taking that step of faith. The enjoy my books. They've learned a lot while reading them, too.
How about you? Are you blooming where you are planted, in spite of the difficulties that the world throws your way? Be brave, like this little flower. It's my hope that this is the year that the world looks at you and says "ooh, ahh."
Jennifer Bohnhoff is a middle school English teacher and track coach in rural New Mexico and the author of 7 self-published novels. You can read more about her on her website.
