At the front of my house, right under our bedroom window, is a small flower bed. We moved into this house in August, but instead of planting bulbs in the fall, I decided to heed advice given to me many years before: Wait a year before doing any planting or digging in a new yard. Until you’ve been through an entire cycle of seasons, you have no idea what’s hiding under the soil, ready to make an appearance when it’s time. 

The following spring I waited with great anticipation to see what would reveal itself in my yard. The first green shoots were clearly daffodil stems; within a few days they formed a beautiful yellow-and-white row against the house. 

A few weeks later the daffodils were starting to look a little frail, but my attention was now drawn to a new row of green popping up in front of them. Eventually I was able to identify them as hyacinths. As the daffodils began to fade for the season, the hyacinths were just starting to show their full colors—lovely pinks and purples that practically glowed in the spring sunshine. 

I’m not a gardener, nor am I a botanist, so I can’t identify all the plants that appeared there; but from March until midsummer there was constant color and texture against the front of the house. Each time one row grew tired and began to wilt, another row of brand-new growth appeared in front of it. Every day when I came home from work it made me smile to see what was showcased in my flower bed. 

I don’t know who it was, but some previous resident of our home planned that flower bed perfectly. They knew exactly what to plant and in what order to ensure that little spot was more than just a patch of dirt.

And for their part, the plants knew exactly what to do. The short ground-cover plants didn’t bloom early. If they had, they would have choked the other flowers. The hyacinths waited until the daffodils were fading to make their appearance, and the daffodils didn’t try to compete with their neighbors. Each one did their best living when the time was right, pushing through and showing up just when they were meant to. None of them outshone another; they each played a part in making that flower bed shine.

Someone has planned the flower bed of our communities perfectly too. The Master Gardener knows exactly whom to plant and in what order to ensure each community is more than just a patch of dirt. He has planted each of us to serve a specific purpose and play a unique part in making our communities shine.

And for our part, we know exactly what to do: simply follow where He leads and seek His guidance. If we do, we won’t choke each other or compete—we’ll do our best living when the time is right, pushing through and showing up just when we’re meant to.

“God’s purpose [for you] . . . is wider, deeper, higher, than [your] restricted vision has comprehended.”^*

^* Ellen G. White, Education (Mountain View, Calif.: Pacific Press Pub. Assn., 1903), p. 262.