The Beauty of the Secret Bloom
Our camera rolls make excellent portraits of what we love. My grandma’s is filled with friends, family, and food. My mom’s is full of beach sunsets and grandkids. My sister’s is full of Watson and Henry, her beloved dog and new baby. If you scroll through mine, you will find thousands of pictures of my four boys. And scattered between are countless images of flowers.
My favorite images are the ones I’ve taken on backpacking trips. Set against the breathtaking panorama of glaciers and alpine meadows, they stand out like lights on a Christmas tree. When I turn a corner on a trail and one catches my eye, it reminds me of when Dorothy walks through the door of her black and white world into the technicolor land of Oz. Mountains generally consist of varying shades of blue, green, brown, and gray. Then suddenly, rich purple sprouts next to the trail, a clump of yellow pokes out the side of the cliff, pink petals are tucked among the rocks. That’s when I whip out my camera.
It’s one thing to find such colorful beauty in the grocery store floral department or the yard of a master gardener. It’s another thing entirely to find it in the wilderness. These flowers have never known a peat pot or a cozy greenhouse. They’ve never been pampered with fertilizer or soil amendments. No skillful pruning or regular watering. Yet they thrive. They thrive, despite the harsh climate, under the care of the One who originally spoke the beauty of vegetation into existence.
Due to their short growing season and remote location, few people ever lay eyes on these mountain wildflowers. And for every one that grows along the trail, how many more bloom in complete anonymity, known only to the insects that pollinate them? Sometimes I wonder why would God sprinkle such intricate beauty across a sequestered landscape. I am convinced these hidden beauties are for his own pleasure. When they unfurl their little heads, they join the song of all creation. They sing his glory.
We see God’s delight in hidden beauty throughout all of his creation. It shines in the pearlescent interior of abalone shells. It rings out in the songs of birds deep in the jungle. It grows within a mother’s womb. Shielded from human eyes but a delight to the God who sees what is in secret.
If God had a smartphone, I don’t doubt that we, his beloved children, would be featured in his photo collection. But could it be that the moments most dear and beautiful to him are the ones when we are less like centerpiece bouquets and more like mountain wildflowers? Just like with the alpine beauties, he delights when we unfurl our hearts before him in secret ways, unseen by the world but precious in his sight. For both flowers and human hearts, there is beauty in the secret bloom.
