The sun sets slow; eerie shadows send shivers down her spine as they silently slip over the darkening scenery. 

She had barely begun this brave trek to glory’s gate and now, night nestles in, daunting and dark. 

Cold and confused, she stumbles through the night. 

She is afraid to think what the morning will bring—afraid of the darkness, yet afraid of what will be exposed in morning light. 

Love walks beside her and she clings to His gentle hand; she knows not what this darkness holds.

At last, morning breaks, but daylight reveals no blue skies or golden rays. 

Dark clouds gather, taunt her innocent desire for sunshine and warmth, leave her wounded, worn, and weak. 

Strong winds daringly push her to the edge of the path, take advantage of her weakness, blind her in this tornado of dust. 

She clings tighter to the hand she can no longer see in the storm. 

Daylight slowly fades and evening brings a moments break in the storm. 

Through the dense dust, she catches a glimpse of the deep valley she is in. 

There is nothing but dirt, this dust that chokes her very breath from her lungs. 

Another day passes, this storm is still raging. 

Her heartbeat grows faint, she’s losing sight of the promise of glory just beyond and up the mountain slopes. 

Here in this valley she must stay until the storm passes by. 

Presently, she feels Love bend towards the earth and shortly rise again. 

Again and again, He bends to the ground, only to raise Himself up to full stature once again. 

Squinting in the storm, she strains to see His face, but the darkness of the storm covers His visage and hides the mystery.

Suddenly, the sky breaks; it lets loose torrents of rain that fall to the valley below. 

In despair, she cowers in the cold, attempts to hide from the terror of this storm. 

For days, it rains.

The earth is damp and clammy, the valley becoming a slippery pool of mud. 

She is numb and can hardly feel Love’s hand in hers anymore. 

But He is still there, shielding her from the worst of the torrent. 

At last, there is cloud break, and rays of sun reach out to warm her heart and shivering body. 

The heavy fog lifts; clouds scatter and melt with the golden rays. 

Just beyond are the grand peaks of glory, the beauty of alpine slopes.

Excitedly, she tugs at the arm of Love, eager to ascend out of the valley and into the heights of these mountain ranges.

Every step screams of the glory just beyond, and she presses forward with an eager heart. 

Weeks pass and finally she reaches the alpine slopes.

The views at the top steal her heart and steal her breath. 

Scanning the valleys below, her eyes catch sight of a majestic place—a meadow green, carpeted in thousands and thousands of bright-colored wildflowers. 

“Look!” She exclaims. “What a glorious place! Can we go and see?”

She grasps the hand of Love, and together they skip down the alpine slopes to the valley below.

Her heart is filled with wonder, thrilled in this bliss.

She reaches down, stoops to the earth and plucks a dainty wildflower near her feet. 

Sunbeams dance on the hills just beyond and she twirls in the blossomed field.

Together, her and Love run through the meadow picking wildflowers as they go. 

Abruptly she stops to catch her breath, her hands filled with wildflower bouquets.

She turns and looks into the eyes of Love, a question pressed on her lips.

“Where did all these come from?”

Love turns and whispers it soft:

“My darling, this is the valley where we spent so many days, the valley where the storm broke loose. 

There are many mysteries that cannot yet be understood—Mysteries both of love and mysteries of evil. 

The storm cannot yet be understood, but while it was raging, I planted wildflower seeds so that one day you would be able to blissfully dance in the beauty of what once broke your heart. 

The rain was my mercy, my miracle for these wildflowers to blossom. 

Darkness cannot always be explained here, but darling, wherever there is darkness, whenever there rages merciless storms, I will walk beside you and plant seeds of beauty. 

Remember child, the storm is a sure promise of the rainbow, the shadows a sure promise of sunshine, the darkness a sure promise of stars, the rain a sure promise of flowers.

These wildflowers are my promise to you—that I will plant beauty in every storm. 

Because this, this is the heart of Love”