Becky's Flowers
As for man, his days
are as grass:
as a flower of the
field, so he flourisheth.
For the wind passeth
over it, and it is gone;
and the place thereof
shall know it no more.
But the mercy of the
Lord is from everlasting to everlasting
upon them that fear
him, and his righteousness unto children's children;
to such as keep his
covenant,
and to those that
remember his commandments to do them.
— Psalm 103:15-18
They lived out in the country on
adjoining spreads, best friends and neighbors for many years. They were always
there for each other, eager to break away on those outings and adventures that
feed friendships and replenish spirits. They had a lot in common, including a
strong faith, a desire to make their homes happy places, and a love of
gardening.
In fact, much of Sally's garden
consisted of divided perennials that Becky shared with her over the years. Every
time she looked at them, she thought of her friend. Every Friday, Becky would
call, and they would sit in their respective kitchens, look out over their
gardens, and laugh, sharing their lives and catching up. Sally really looked
forward to Fridays and that special call.
Then one day a couple of years ago,
there was a "BOOM!" from Becky's house. The furnace exploded. The roof blew
off, the walls caved in, and, firefighters said, Becky died instantly. She
wouldn't have suffered, the family was told. They took solace in her strong
faith. For sure, she was in heaven.
The BOOM! resonated in Sally's
heart, though, ripping out a giant hole. She got through the funeral, and
comforted Becky's griefstricken husband and dazed, elderly parents. That year,
she couldn't even look toward where Becky's house used to stand, the bulldozed
spot now covered with grass.
She had lost her anchor . . . the
person who knew her best besides her husband . . . the source of a lot of the
sunshine in her life.
The months dragged on. She kept
herself extra busy with kids, work and activities, but she still missed Becky,
missed those Friday phone calls. That summer, Becky's garden remained untended;
Sally couldn't bring herself to set foot on Becky's property, aching for her
friend.
But then Sally heard about a man who
had come up with a wonderful idea, called "Flowers From Friends." She knew it
was something Becky would love. So she decided to do it . . . for Becky.
This year, Sally is going to grow extra
flowers in her yard, and make a bouquet once a week. She will take these
bouquets to local nursing homes and hospices. They will adorn the rooms of those
who may be sick and lonely, without many visitors - those in real need of
beautiful flowers, a nice note, and a brief visit from a sweet, smiling friend.
Sally says she feels an intensely
strong pull from the Lord to do this. It's something that will come easily and
naturally for her, a real joy. She's excited to plan out a garden that will
produce attractive combinations for bouquets all summer. In the winter, she'll
keep it going by purchasing day-old flowers from local florists, pulling off
the wilting petals, and making fresh, lovely bouquets that defy the winter
despair with their incomparable color and scent.
Because that's what flowers do: stand
for life, and beauty, and hope. God gave them to us to give to friends, to
symbolize the love of our mutual Friend.
A lot of the flowers will come from
Becky's garden. Sally likes that a lot.
And of course, she's going to bring
the bouquets on Fridays - her day with Becky.
As the gentle rains transform her
rural acreage into a garden of love, and flowers start being dispatched to
brighten lonely people's lives, she believes her friend up in heaven will have
a bird's eye view, and will heartily approve.
On her knees in that garden, with
the spring sun on her back and the familiar faces of the flowers they both
loved all around, Sally and Becky will be together again . . . sharing life,
and catching up. †
