Beautiful Flowers

Isn't it interesting how our brain can connect the dots so quickly and lead us
to a memory that has long been buried?

While driving Ray to the gym I noticed the plethora of Queen Anne's Lace that ran along the roadways.  It is one of my most favorite wildflowers.  Its intricate, delicate design intrigues me.
Their beauty always reminds me of their Creator and causes my heart to rejoice.

Our God is so generous!  He did not need to share so much beauty with us.
Of course, He had to share it because His generosity is motivated by pure love.  His heart couldn't do otherwise.


As I reveled in the greeting of row after row of those glorious wildflowers, a memory from over twenty-five years ago arose out of the memory banks. 


I have never been very successful at growing roses.
Yet, though that statement holds true to this day, there was one exception.
Actually, I think it was the Master Gardener at work, but either way, it was in my garden!


The bush was remaining healthy, which was the first sign of a miracle!
The instructions had said that only one bud would appear at a time and that said bud would take its time opening.  The owner was to enjoy the journey, as every day would hold a new dimension of beauty.
Sounds like a metaphor for life doesn't it?

Well, true to their promise one little bud appeared and thus began the adventure of joining in the journey of this little one.
Every day I would go out to discover what changes had taken place.
First the bud grew in size, day by day and then it began to open.
So very slowly.

It was thick with petals, rich coral colored petals.

One morning it was evident that within a day, two at most, the precious bud would be fully open.
I decided that the following day would be the day that I would cut it and place in a lovely bud vase that I had so I could extend its life a little longer.
It was the heat of summer and I knew that the sun would end its life in no time at all.

Later that day one of our boys had a friend over to play.  It was the first time this little guy was over and I quickly learned that he was not use to being still for even a moment and that he was also use to doing just what he wanted.

Needless to say that I was kept busy during his visit and not a little glad to see his mom arrive!

While she and I chatted for a moment he continued to zig and zag throughout the yard.

I guess one of his zigs took his alongside my rose bush.

Yes, he reached his little, sweaty hand out and plucked the rose.
Just the flower itself.
Sans stem.

He ran up to his mother and tossed her the flower.
Such a casual action.
One repeated often between mothers and their children.
A flower for their mommy.

Sigh.
I grieved that rose the rest of the day.
I can still taste the disappointment of that moment.

Though I would have liked to shriek (and my son was standing with aghast anticipation of just such a reaction) I exercised restraint.

One who was acutely aware that she had received an abundance of grace herself could do nothing else.

Just this morning Papa reminded me how He is always poised to bless each one of us for His compassions are new every morning.
There is a tie between my little story and that truth, but I will save that for the next time I post to this blog!