Hope Floats

Each spring, well before the temperature is averaging 65 degrees during the day, something I refer to as “hope” happens in my patio pond.  At first, I only catch a glimpse of it when the sunlight hits the water just right.  Then, day by day it becomes more obvious.  The water lily plant at the bottom of the pond sends up its first leaf.  It takes many days, but I see progress every day.

For me it represents the most basic meaning of hope.  Imagine that this plant may be using its last reserves of energy towards one purpose; to produce a little leaf.  Up, up and away the tiny, curled pad advances.  Each inch of stem that is added consumes more fuel.  Only if that leaf eventually breaks the water’s surface can the plant begin to replenish its stores, produce more leaves and eventually bloom.

I ponder.  What if, due to a natural disaster like an infrequent flood, the water’s surface was not three feet up from the soil where the roots are secured, but six or even twenty feet?  Would that lily have the capacity to maintain the leaf’s momentum upwards to the light?  One can only hope. This small miracle that happens each spring on my back patio truly illuminates the concept that Hope Floats.