Petals of Friendship

  Our hidden parts... A friend recently invited me to a new Bible study. I went back and forth in my mind about attending it. I had many reasons to say no. My biggest reason was that I didn’t know anyone except my friend, and the thought of meeting new people gave me a heavy feeling. By heavy I don’t mean anxious, it was more of a wondering if I would fit in or have anything worthy to contribute. For an introvert, these thoughts form familiar, personal hurdles that I must approach with full velocity. Or not. As I chose to attend, I simply hoped to make the jump and land safely. My “normal” go-to is keep to myself. Until I get to know someone, I stay hidden. And this hiding has become something to ponder lately. Recently, I discovered that the part of me that I keep hidden really should not remain that way. And I discovered this lesson in my garden. I relish the blooming of the peonies in my backyard each spring. They are one of my favorite flowers and I can’t wait for them to open ...

  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”...

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,...