In My Own Backyard

   Buying your first home is a lot like getting married. There are the headaches of particulars to work out: packing, organizing, closing costs and interest rates may be analogous to arranging for the reception, paying for the ring and addressing all those invitations. Yet, in the end, it's still tremendously exciting and so devastatingly romantic! Our preparations for moving into our first home reminded me a lot of the dreamy anticipation that preceded our wedding. Some of our goals were quite lofty and would require a good amount of time to be realized. Others were simpler pleasures that required little more effort on our part than to just be enjoyed.
   One dream I held, nestled deep in my heart. So small and simple, I hadn't even realized it was there until the tentative Spring sunshine began to thaw Winter's frosty grasp. Driving along a pasture road, or strolling past a neighbor's garden, I'd feel it: a strangely familiar longing. The fragrant breeze would envelope me and I'd remember: Lilacs. Ever since I was a girl, these delicate bushes have held a special magic for me. Every time I'd see one swaying its lacy clusters of purple blossoms, I'd feel homesick. It's difficult to explain, since I don't recall ever having a lilac bush growing up. But once they started blooming in my neighborhood, my heart remembered, even if my brain could not. The sight of them stirred that lovely aching inside that reminded me, "You've always wanted lilacs."
    Then the habitual debate began within me. The "Yes, but. . ." dialogue between my mind and heart where I try to resign myself to more practical ways of thinking. How much would it cost? Where would I plant it? What if it died before it even bloomed?
    The deliberation went on for a day or two. One day my son came in from playing outside clutching a tiny plum-colored flower in his fingers. Its four petals were only barely opening and the blossom was pointed at the base (which he thought made it look menacing, and thus appropriate for a boy to play with). Ever the curious and concerned mother, I asked him where he'd found it. (Could it be poisonous?) "In the backyard," came the reply. Strange, I thought. I don't remember seeing any flowers like that out there. But dinner was ready and I brushed the thought aside for the moment. The next day, I had a hopeful hunch. Silently, I slipped out the side door and around the back of the house. And there, on there far side of our lovely new home, I discovered that I am the owner of not one, but two blooming lilac bushes! The smaller one has the pale, lavender-colored flowers I'm familiar with. But the larger bush is bursting with bunches of darker purple blossoms, like bunches of grapes on the vine. I don't think I've ever seen anything more beautiful.

     The next two days my oldest daughter and I had our scripture study outside, next to the lilac bushes. I wasted no time clipping several sprigs to bring into the house. Though short-lived in the vase, they imparted a heavenly fragrance that filled the whole house!
      A few days ago when I was again outside by myself, I looked fondly at the bushes. My heart filled with gratitude and I wrapped my arms around their branches, each in turn. "Thank you!" I told them. "Thank you for blooming for me, for giving your all to make this world so glorious and sweet!"

      To think, all this time, my hearts longing was right outside. In my own backyard.