Petals of Friendship

  The work of a floral designer can be perceived as dreamy and romantic. The truth is, it’s really not like that at all.  It’s a satisfying form of creativity and just like any other art form, a great deal happens before the “beautiful” emerges. What isn’t seen is the messy process that precedes the beautiful outcome. If you’ve ever worked in a floral shop, you know what I mean. Flowers arrive to a shop packed in boxes. They are strategically and protectively arranged to protect and preserve them from damage while in transit. If mishandled, flowers can be bruised. The job of the floral designer begins here. The goal? To carefully unpack the flowers and transfer them to another safe place, a cylinder container filled with fresh water. Before the stems are submerged in water though, essential things need to happen. As the flowers are unpacked, the stems are cleaned, then given a generous new cut. This is done so that when they’re put in a bucket of water, they can “drink up”. The new

Years ago, for the very first time, I read the gardening section of the newspaper. I found myself attracted to an article about hummingbirds. According to the article, it was hummingbird season and time to keep an eye out for these tiny creatures. Fascinated with the information, I found it hard to believe that hummingbirds existed in my corner of the world. I had seen them in movies or TV specials, but never in person. And so, I sent a short, simple prayer up to Heaven. “I would love to see a hummingbird, Lord.” I forgot about my prayer until a few days later. I was admiring the flowers I had planted outside my door. I planted beautiful impatiens that spilled out of two large terra cotta pots. I was excited with the results, excited because the flowers actually grew! I was pleasantly surprised with my beginner’s luck. Suddenly, without warning, a tiny, green bird flitted magnetically to my flowers. I had to take a second look. Was it a hummingbird? I wasn’t sure. I kept look

I recently clipped a flowering branch off a tree in our yard.   I thought I could keep it blooming so that I could take a photo of it.   Within minutes, cut away from the branch and without water, it wilted.   The photo opportunity faded. The beauty of the branch was gone as the life it held evaporated.   And so, it is with us.   Can we truly live if we are cut off from the vine?   If we are separated from God, where do we go to get life?   Where do we go to stay alive?   To have breath and to live in the splendor and truth of how we’ve been created ?    The blooms on the branch looked radiant while attached to the tree.   The collective display was grand, a picture of its purpose.   It reflected beauty, grace and God’s glory in nature. Then I looked at the wilted branch I had collected and the flowers on it. They were dead. In Luke 24:1-7, we read about the women who went to Jesus’ tomb and when they arrived, found the tomb empty. … very early on Sunday morning t