Like a Moonflower…

I’ve never been scared of the dark. As a child, I often found myself trying to find dark places to hide in. Whether it was a closet, under a bed, or curled up in a ball in a dark room, somehow the darkness seemed to bring me comfort.

As of recently, God has been stirring up past prayers, gently reminding me of times where I pleaded with Him to be spiritually and mentally healthy. Where I begged Him to help me heal and be who He had always wanted me to be. The times I cried out to see life in places I was spiritually dead in.

I don’t remember a lot before the age of eight, so picture my unease, when memories of my childhood started chasing me down. I couldn’t help but feel exposed. Like my past was trying to break out from behind a door God already closed. I was determined to keep that door firmly shut, but I dreaded that the enemy might use my childhood memories to force it open. I knew I needed to pray.

Last week, during my quiet time with God, I confessed that I didn’t feel like the warrior He revealed in a past vision. Instead, I still felt like that little girl. Desperate to move beyond her, I asked Him, “Why do You keep bringing her into the light?”

Then He revealed a vision: me straining with all my might to hold a heavy door closed against a fierce wind, with the word “healing” before me. I saw myself pushing that door shut, until I cried myself to sleep. “Lord, I just want to grow beyond her.”

As I mentioned, this past week, my childhood memories have been relentlessly pursuing me. I’m not sure when I convinced myself that if I could shield my marriage, my children, and my closest relationships from my past, I could protect the growth God has started in me. That was obviously a lie, as echoes of my past wounds kept surfacing in my marriage and in my relationships with those, I cherish most.

So, yesterday, I shared in a video that healing feels like struggling to hold a door closed in a windstorm. That no matter how much strength I put into keeping it shut, the storm always gets to me.

Well, people may not know this about me, but music is my way to God’s heart. He speaks to me through song and visions. And I came across this song that stood out to me. It wasn’t even a christian song, but the first lyric said, “a flower can’t grow in darkness.”

You might also not know this about me, but I’m quick to verify facts. So, I turned to ChatGPT to ask if flowers can grow in darkness. Before I could read its response, God brought me back to the vision of the door, where I was pushing against the windstorm. This time, the perspective widened, revealing me in a dark room, straining against the door. Light seeped through the cracks on the other side, and suddenly, the wind stopped.

I turned and realized just how dark the room truly was, standing there, confused. This whole time I thought I’d been fighting to keep the darkness out, but God showed me the truth: I was blocking the light from coming in.

When He revealed that, I then saw myself push the door open, and instantly, the bright light on the other side overwhelmed me. And for a moment I considered staying in the dark. But the little girl, which is me as I’ve mentioned in earlier posts, gently took my hand and guided me into the light.

Then the Holy Spirit reminded me of John 1:5. “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”

I glanced at ChatGPT’s response, which read, “No, a flower can’t grow in darkness; they need light to live.”

The words hit me hard because I couldn’t recall a time when darkness didn’t surround me, and I felt that sadness try to take root. But as I read on, ChatGPT noted, “BUT, there’s one flower called moonflowers, that can still bloom in the dark.” In that moment, I felt the Holy Spirit uproot that sadness and replanted hope in its place.

How can hope take root in this darkness? Because I am, in every way, a relentless pursuer of truth aka fact geek and I know the difference between growing and blooming.

In that truth, He reminded me, that growing is the process of getting bigger, stronger, and developing over time. For a plant, growth means forming roots, stems and leaves. It’s the building stage. Blooming, on the other hand, is when the plant bursts into flowers, what science calls the showing stage. It’s the vibrant beauty and fruit that comes from all that growth.

So, while a plant can grow without blooming, it can’t bloom without having grown first.

In the same way, spiritually growing is God’s quiet work within us—building faith, overcoming struggles, and, for me, bringing past wounds to light. Blooming is the fruit produced or as I like to say, a showcase of God’s work through a heart that is open, surrendered, and yearning for His light.

After a 30 minute rabbit trail on my newest obsession, I learned some cool facts about moonflowers. They’re part of the morning glory family. That instantly reminded me of Psalm 30:5, which says, “Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.” Moonflowers are trumpet-shaped, reflect light, and almost seem to glow in the dark. They grow quickly and bloom quietly in the hidden hours of the night, serving as a gentle reminder to my heart that even though I am at times surrounded by darkness, I can still bloom, because my growth comes from the light.

So all my moonflowers: if you find yourself in the dark, it’s not to help you grow—it’s so you can shine.