I Believe: Broken flowers carry a message
Posted: Saturday, October 13, 2007
"There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance." Ecclesiastes 3:1,4
She watches as her mother carefully digs up the dirt and turns it over, adding her own special mixture to the earth. The mom lets the crumbs fall through her fingers. She knows everything's ready. She knows it's time.
"Watcha doin', Mommy?"
"I'm getting the flower beds ready for a long winter's sleep so that next spring when it's time for them to grow they'll be healthy and strong."
"You're tucking them in?"
The mom laughs. "That's right."
The daughter watches as her mom lovingly picks up the broken flowers and gently places them in her flower basket.
"Whatcha gonna do with those?"
"I'll make a beautiful flower arrangement for our table."
"But they're broken, Mommy. They're not pretty."
The mom looks at her daughter and smiles as her eyes fill with tears. "Oh, Sweetie, the broken ones are the most beautiful of all. You just wait and see."
And the mom remembers another fall with another child sitting in the grass while she prepares the flower beds for their long winter's sleep. She still sees the sweet smile. She still hears his laughter, warm like the sun. She sees his shiny hair so black it looks blue. She sees his green eyes, the color of seaweed. She sees his kind heart, bigger than any she's ever known.
"Mommy, why are you throwing those flowers away?" he asks on that day so long ago.
"They're broken, Timmy."
"Does that mean you don't want them? Aren't they pretty?" Timmy shifts his legs, imprisoned in leg braces. Carefully, he picks up one leg and places it in another position. Then he repeats the motion. He loses his balance and tips over. Sprawled out on the green grass, he looks like a marionette whose strings have been dropped. His mom helps him sit up again. He hugs her tightly.
"Oh, Timmy, the broken flowers are the most beautiful of all," she says as her eyes fill with tears. "They're the ones God loves the most. God doesn't make them that way, but sometimes when they come out that way he gives them a very special beauty."
"Did he do that for me?"
"Yes, he did," she says, her voice cracking. "You're the most beautiful flower in the garden because of your big heart. You love life. And people. And animals. And birds."
"And God. And my school. And my teachers. I just wish I could meet my little sister."
"It'd be nice to have a sister. Maybe ..."
"Some day she'll sit right here," says Timmy, as if he sees her. "She'll watch you tuck the flower beds in for winter. She has brown, curly hair and funny freckles."
"We can't know for sure if ..."
"Her name's Joy." Timmy smiles as if he knows a secret.
"Not everything works out the way we want it to. Maybe you'll have a sister one day. And maybe one day your outside will match your inside."
"I know, Mommy." Timmy laughs. "Jesus told me that a long time ago. When I'm in heaven, will you remember me? Will you think of me when you see broken flowers? Will you tell Joy about me?"
"Yes."
"You won't forget?"
"I'll never forget," the mom says aloud.
"Forget what?" asks Joy.
"Your brother."
"My brother?"
"He's in heaven with Jesus, but he used to sit right here where you're sitting. He loved to watch me work in the garden. He was funny and sweet and very brave. He was like these flowers," says mom pointing to her basket. "Broken and beautiful."
"What's his name?"
"Timmy. He loved you even before you were born. He named you, too. He said you'd make us happy again and you do."
"Mommy, look!"
Mom and Joy look at the broken flowers. They're no longer broken. They're absolutely beautiful. Unlike anything the mom has ever seen.
"How did that happen?" asks Mom.
"God made them look just like Timmy," says Joy with the funny freckles. Her brown curls bounce as she twirls and dances in the backyard. She smiles a smile that says she knows a secret. And she does.
"He has made everything beautiful in its time ..." Ecclesiastes 3:11
Kathy Yoder is a devotional writer. She may be reached at dkeyoder@longlines.com.
She watches as her mother carefully digs up the dirt and turns it over, adding her own special mixture to the earth. The mom lets the crumbs fall through her fingers. She knows everything's ready. She knows it's time.
"Watcha doin', Mommy?"
"I'm getting the flower beds ready for a long winter's sleep so that next spring when it's time for them to grow they'll be healthy and strong."
"You're tucking them in?"
The mom laughs. "That's right."
The daughter watches as her mom lovingly picks up the broken flowers and gently places them in her flower basket.
"Whatcha gonna do with those?"
"I'll make a beautiful flower arrangement for our table."
"But they're broken, Mommy. They're not pretty."
The mom looks at her daughter and smiles as her eyes fill with tears. "Oh, Sweetie, the broken ones are the most beautiful of all. You just wait and see."
And the mom remembers another fall with another child sitting in the grass while she prepares the flower beds for their long winter's sleep. She still sees the sweet smile. She still hears his laughter, warm like the sun. She sees his shiny hair so black it looks blue. She sees his green eyes, the color of seaweed. She sees his kind heart, bigger than any she's ever known.
"Mommy, why are you throwing those flowers away?" he asks on that day so long ago.
"They're broken, Timmy."
"Does that mean you don't want them? Aren't they pretty?" Timmy shifts his legs, imprisoned in leg braces. Carefully, he picks up one leg and places it in another position. Then he repeats the motion. He loses his balance and tips over. Sprawled out on the green grass, he looks like a marionette whose strings have been dropped. His mom helps him sit up again. He hugs her tightly.
"Oh, Timmy, the broken flowers are the most beautiful of all," she says as her eyes fill with tears. "They're the ones God loves the most. God doesn't make them that way, but sometimes when they come out that way he gives them a very special beauty."
"Did he do that for me?"
"Yes, he did," she says, her voice cracking. "You're the most beautiful flower in the garden because of your big heart. You love life. And people. And animals. And birds."
"And God. And my school. And my teachers. I just wish I could meet my little sister."
"It'd be nice to have a sister. Maybe ..."
"Some day she'll sit right here," says Timmy, as if he sees her. "She'll watch you tuck the flower beds in for winter. She has brown, curly hair and funny freckles."
"We can't know for sure if ..."
"Her name's Joy." Timmy smiles as if he knows a secret.
"Not everything works out the way we want it to. Maybe you'll have a sister one day. And maybe one day your outside will match your inside."
"I know, Mommy." Timmy laughs. "Jesus told me that a long time ago. When I'm in heaven, will you remember me? Will you think of me when you see broken flowers? Will you tell Joy about me?"
"Yes."
"You won't forget?"
"I'll never forget," the mom says aloud.
"Forget what?" asks Joy.
"Your brother."
"My brother?"
"He's in heaven with Jesus, but he used to sit right here where you're sitting. He loved to watch me work in the garden. He was funny and sweet and very brave. He was like these flowers," says mom pointing to her basket. "Broken and beautiful."
"What's his name?"
"Timmy. He loved you even before you were born. He named you, too. He said you'd make us happy again and you do."
"Mommy, look!"
Mom and Joy look at the broken flowers. They're no longer broken. They're absolutely beautiful. Unlike anything the mom has ever seen.
"How did that happen?" asks Mom.
"God made them look just like Timmy," says Joy with the funny freckles. Her brown curls bounce as she twirls and dances in the backyard. She smiles a smile that says she knows a secret. And she does.
"He has made everything beautiful in its time ..." Ecclesiastes 3:11
Kathy Yoder is a devotional writer. She may be reached at dkeyoder@longlines.com.
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quickthinker wrote on Oct 14, 2007 8:58 PM: