Petals of Friendship

  A new season begins. It is Lent. We are born. And the moment we are born, we leave one realm and enter another. We were conceived by the greatest Artist, God. Designed, created, and with the breath of life in us, He perfectly places us exactly where we are supposed to be. Yet, at this moment we entered imperfection, and became needy. Needy for so many things, but more than anything else, it was the beginning of our need for Him. Our need for His grace for our souls. Our search begins. Is it possible we have a memory of where we came from? Is it possible our needy souls long to be seen and loved as we once were? Could it be that this is what drives our search? Our search for someone to hold us, care for us, nurture us, and grow us? The neediness in us becomes so great that our lives can turn into broken fragments and pieces that scatter to anyone or anything that appears to have the ability to mend our souls together. We can be stuck in this fragmented and scattered state and cont...

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...

Something terrible had just happened.  It was in a note that a “friend” passed along to me from another “friend”. In the note, was written a word. A word I'd never seen before. My instinct also told me it was a name. A bad name. This friend had just called me a name. Whoever came up with the saying, “sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me” was a liar. Even though I wasn’t familiar with the word, I knew it was meant to hurt me. And that word was a stone. That happened when I was in the seventh grade and I remember it like it was yesterday. It was the beginning of a career of bullying from this so-called friend and it lasted throughout all my following school years until I graduated high school. I cringe even now as I type this.  The girl who bullied me, stalked me, harassed me, and called me names, made my life miserable by casting stones my way. I’m not writing this to make you feel sorry for me. I’m writing this because it has made me aware of...