Nothing Is Wasted: The Promise of the Amaryllis

Christmas has a way of arriving tenderly—and insistently—especially when grief has altered how we experience joy.

Years ago, on Christmas Eve, in a season of fresh grief, I bought an amaryllis. I chose a bulb that had not yet opened, unsure of what—or when—it might become. By Christmas morning, the first red bloom had burst forth. In the days that followed, more blooms appeared—abundant, unexpected, and unapologetically alive.

Scripture names this promise with audacious hope:
“I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?” (Isaiah 43:19)

What struck me then—and still does now—is how new life does not require the erasure of what came before. Grief was not finished. Healing was not complete. And yet, life insisted on blooming anyway.

This is one of the great gifts of the Christian story: nothing is ever wasted in God’s economy. Not sorrow. Not regret. Not the long nights of unanswered questions. God does not ask us to pretend the past didn’t happen. Instead, God gathers all that has been—the good, the hard, and the unspeakable—and makes it fertile ground for what is coming next.

Letting go is not the same as forgetting. Releasing the past does not mean denying its impact. It means trusting that God is big enough to hold it—and generous enough to transform it.

At the turning of the year, many of us feel the ache of what did not turn out as we hoped. The holidays can intensify that ache. And still, here is the amaryllis: a living reminder that God’s work is often already underway, even when we cannot yet perceive it.

Perhaps the invitation of Christmas is not to rush toward joy, but to notice where life is quietly emerging. To receive the small signs of grace. To trust that healing does not diminish us, but strengthens us.

Nothing is wasted. God is creating something in our midst.

May we lean forward with courage—and trust what is beginning to bloom.

Walking with you,
Vicki