(Everything comes to the surface in its own time)
In the garden, the snowdrop is already lowering its head.
For a long time it announced the approaching spring. It awakened the brown soil—frozen into a dull grey mass and hard clods—from its misty sleep, and when its work was done, it quietly said goodbye. It knows the order of nature and allows those who come after it to bloom.
Everything emerges from the depths in its own time.
So it is in our lives as well.
Sometimes we are the snowdrops.
We rise from between the hardened layers, do what we came here to do, and with our presence we signal: change is coming. We do not stay longer than necessary and we do not cling to the first role we take. We know when the time comes to move on.
And sometimes we are still the soil.
Silent, motionless, heavy. From the outside nothing seems to happen, yet inside life is already at work. Deep in the unseen layers something is preparing that will one day break through to the surface.
Nature never rushes and never falls behind.
It does not compare, it does not demand explanations. It simply allows what has ripened to come forth.
Sometimes this happens quietly, like when the ice softens and suddenly the earth has its scent again.
Other times it arrives suddenly:
a stronger wind breaks the dry branches, a heavy rain washes away the dust that has been carried for so long, and water stepping out of its bed draws a new path for itself.
Nothing remains simply because it has existed that way for a long time.
Not to take away—
but to make space for what wants to live.
The same is true within us.
Some changes are almost invisible, while others rearrange everything in a single day, carrying away what we once believed to be permanent.
Yet what truly belongs to us does not disappear.
It simply remains in another form.
Perhaps this is our task as well.
To know that what is leaving now was not in vain.
And that what is being born now has not arrived too late.
Now is the time.
~ Ildikó Dajbukát
Spirit Touch Healing
