No Rain, No Flowers

Feb 23

In this past year of extraordinary stress, pain, strife, turmoil and loss for so many of us on this earth, I have been pondering a phrase that decorated my newest binder purchased at Walmart last July— “NO RAIN, NO FLOWERS.” These words appealed to me at the time because they somehow hinted at meaning in all that was swirling around us. As often happens after I focus my attention on something in particular, I seem to see the phrase on notebooks and mugs everywhere. I’ve decided this saying must somehow resonate in the hearts of so many of us who are trying to make sense of the opening of this Pandora’s Box, which has forever changed the world in which we live.

Bright natural dining room nook with vases plates and fruits on the table.

Pandora’s box originates from Greek mythology, a myth which makes an attempt to explain how evil entered the world. The myth describes Pandora, as the first woman on Earth, created as a punishment to mankind, in order to appease the anger of Zeus, god of all the gods on Mount Olympus. As the story goes, Zeus gave Pandora a name meaning “the one who bears all gifts,” and the gods gave Pandora a box containing “special gifts;” she was instructed not to open the box. Tragically, Pandora’s curiosity gained the better of her and when she opened the box, sickness, death, and other evil spirits were released into the world. Although Pandora tried to quickly close the container, all “gifts” had escaped except one—Hope, which was forever closed inside.

This myth seems to indicate that this unleashing of evil eradicates hope for all of us and creates only misery which accomplishes nothing good. I have borne witness in my life and the lives of others that some things in this world are so gut-wrenching, unfair, and unabashedly wicked, we may never see a purpose on this side of heaven. Yet, if I’m honest, I have to admit that some of what’s best about me was birthed from moments or seasons of intense pain.

Living with cancer in my mid-thirty’s helped me re-prioritize what I thought was important in life. I realized that all of us are only promised today, and I began to try to live more in the present, to appreciate what was instead of always imagining the better that would be in the future. I realized that the things I will eventually leave behind when I graduate to heaven will undoubtedly break or rust or be lost—these things systematically become dust again, just as even all of us who live and breathe will do. At the same time, I more clearly understood that the time and effort I invested in the lives of others would maybe make a difference, even if a small one, which would live on long after I was gone.

My struggles with infertility, failed adoptions, and even being the target of an adoption scam, provided me with empathy and compassion for others which grows only after experiencing torrential rains of pain and grief. And as I look back on these and other instances, directly resulting from those “gifts” which poured from Pandora’s box, I am often struck by the joy I unexpectedly feel. When I am able to see that somehow just my presence comforts someone else who is suffering—especially when they know I have experienced some of the same—I feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude that my own hurt has meaning. Just as when I observe others who have not only survived what seems impossible to me, but live with outrageous hope and purpose, I realize these brave souls have allowed the rain in their lives to transform them into blossoms of light and great beauty.

Even in the thousands of years since the myth of Pandora’s Box was created, we mortals have been tempted to believe the lie that Hope was locked up tight in that ancient container, and that rain of hard things means only misery. But, the truth is this—some of the most beautiful and valuable parts of life, like all flowers, require rain in order to live at all. And because I so easily forget, especially in seasons like this, I am glad I have my binder to keep reminding me of the truth.