What kind of flower are you?

Let your hope keep you joyful, be patient in your troubles, and pray at all times. – Romans 12:12 (TEV)

   
My husband and I were at our church’s annual sweetheart dinner, and the men were taking a how-well-do-you-know-your-wife quiz. “What is your wife’s favorite flower?” was one of the questions. He wrote “roses.”
   
Roses are nice, I thought, but they’re not my favorite flower. I tried to come up with an answer, but the truth was I didn’t have a favorite flower. I didn’t know I was supposed to. I liked all flowers, especially wild ones.
   
That was years ago. I didn’t give the favorite-flower question much thought until recently.
   
“I just love lilacs,” I told my husband one day as we sat at the dining room table, the fragrance of lilacs filling the room. “They’re my favorite flower.”
   
But I had to qualify that.
   
“For fragrance, that is,” I added quickly. “I like carnations because you can put them in water, and they last for weeks. And I like daisies because they are such a happy flower.”
   
“You know,” I said, looking at my husband, “I want to be like those three flowers: fragrant like the lilacs, hardy like the carnation and happy like the daisy.” 
   
The more I thought about it, the more I realized that those three flowers also symbolize my faith.
   
The lilac symbolizes my prayer life. Just as the lilac’s soft fragrance continually fills the air around it, so should my prayers ascend to God, like the Old Testament sacrifices that were described as a “pleasing aroma,” a “sweet-smelling savor,” or a “fragrant offering” to the Lord. As I love to stand next to my lilac bush when it’s covered with blossoms, inhaling the heady scent, so I imagine God inhaling the sweet scent of my prayer offerings to Him.
   
The carnation symbolizes endurance. Hardy, even for black-thumbed me, the carnation doesn’t need babied. But too often I’m like the rose – I want to be beautiful for God, but I have to be pampered if I am to last. When life’s circumstances heat up, I whine, I pout, I wilt. But the Christian life isn’t a flower shop, where perfect conditions are cultivated for the flowers to thrive. It’s more like the world outside, where weather conditions can change in a moment, and endurance is necessary if I am to thrive for God.
   
Finally, the daisy symbolizes, to me, the joy that comes from hope. Such a little word, and so often dwarfed next to its giant big brother faith, hope is my song in the night. It’s what keeps me going in the tough times, what keeps me putting one step in front of the other on this long, hard journey called life. Hope in my heart is what puts the smile on my face. Hope is knowing that although there may be tears in the night, joy will come with the morning light. And morning always comes.

Lord, help me to be fragrant like the lilac, hardy like the carnation, and happy like the daisy. Amen.

 

Special-tea: Read Romans 12

It's lilac time!

   

Our lives are a fragrance presented by Christ to God. –2 Corinthians 2:15 (NLT)

   
When we first moved to the country, my mother-in-law gave me a small lilac bush, an offshoot of one that grew in her yard. I planted it in the ground at the front corner of the house, upwind, so the soft spring breezes would carry the heady fragrance of the flowers through open windows. After being closed up all winter, I reasoned, the house would smell fresh and clean.
   
It didn’t quite work out that way. The first few years, the bush grew, but not the flowers. The transplant needed to take to the soil and grow a strong root system before it would blossom.
   
Then there were the years an early spell of warm, summer-like weather coaxed the buds out, but then a heavy frost would freeze the blossoms. We still got flowers, just not as many.
   
Each year, the bush grew taller and fuller. Each year I’d open my windows, but somehow the sweet scent of lilacs didn’t fill the house as I’d envisioned – until 25 years after I planted it. Perhaps the bush needed time to mature. Fragrant purple blossoms now cover the bush, which is nearly 20 feet high and 10 feet across, dominating that corner of the yard. And the sweet smell of lilacs fills my home day and night. At last.
   
My lilac bush and I are alike. When I first became a Christian, I wanted to set the world on fire for Christ. I was bold, enthusiastic, hungry for God-knowledge, and wanting to share what I had with everyone around me. I had dreams of packing up my guitar on going on the road, singing the songs I wrote and telling audiences about God. Didn’t Jesus tell command us to go into all the world and tell others about Him?
     
But things didn’t work out the way I’d envisioned. Three months after I told God I’d do anything for Him, I was pregnant with our third child. No going into all the world for me. My guitar would have to idle in a forgotten corner, my music on a dusty shelf, while my fingers busied themselves, not with plucking strings, but diapers, dishes, dust rags and dirty clothes.

But those were good years – in hindsight, the best years of my life. I spent a lot of time in the Word and on my knees. Like the lilac bush, I needed time to mature, to grow my roots deep in Him, to weather the extremes of life. Funny, but now that my children are grown and I have the time and opportunity to do what I dreamed of so many years ago, I find myself wanting not to go into the world, but to stay home.
     
But God has spent decades getting this lilac bush ready to do what He called me to do (and it’s not singing), and I must obey His call. It’s lilac time.
           
Dear God, let my life be a sweet-smelling fragrance to the world around me. Amen.

Special-Tea: 2 Corinthians 2:14-17

A mother's prayer

Mother's Day bouquet from Jaime.

And Jesus grew in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and men. – Luke 2:52 NIV

   
My children are all grown, now, Lord. I don’t hear their voices every day. I don’t have to cook for them, pick up after them, or remind them to clean their rooms, take out the garbage, do their homework, or be home by curfew.
   
No more do I scrutinize report cards, or attend teacher conferences, holiday programs, and piano and ballet recitals. No schedules deck my refrigerator. I don’t have to answer “why” questions or make sure I have the right change for lunch money or explain why I don’t want another dog. My day no longer centers around them. They are all on their own. I sure hope I’ve done a good job.
   
But, Lord, my job is far from over. Now I get to parent from my knees. Now I get to practice heartfelt, persistent prayer. I pray that they would be RICH – not in the worldly sense, but in the character traits that will bring them success and satisfaction as human beings:

R
Respect: That they would respect themselves, others, and You. That they would command the respect of others by their behavior and beliefs.
 
Responsible: That they would fulfill their commitments and duties without whining or complaining. That they would be accountable for their own foul-ups and not look for excuses or try to place the blame on circumstances or others.

I
Integrity: That they would be persons who keep their word and do the right thing, even if they must stand alone and go against the flow. That they would be fair and just.
 
Industry: That they would not be afraid of good, old-fashioned hard work, and not be ashamed to get their hands dirty doing it.

C
Character: That they would have high standards for their behavior and speech, and find the inner strength to do what is right through a personal relationship with You.
 
Compassion: That they would look out for the other guy, be their brothers’ keepers, help the helpless and fight for the underdog. That they would nurture an unselfish spirit. That they would know that kindness is not weakness, but strength.

H
Honor: That they would always tell the truth and do what is right, and strive to be the person described in Psalm 1.
 
Humility: That they would not think themselves better than anyone else and not treat others as their servants.

   
Guide them in the problems they face and in the decisions they make. Bless them and keep them, Lord, and make Your face shine upon them. Show them Your grace and favor and give them peace (Numbers 6:24-26). And may they be Psalm 1 men and women. Amen.

Special-Tea: Read Psalm 1

Refining rocks

 See, I have refined you . . . I have tested you in the furnace of affliction.  – Isaiah 48:10 (NIV)
          
When we first moved to the country, we chose a section of the hayfield near our house to transform into a garden. Before we could plant any seeds, though, we had to prepare the ground. Besides making the soil loose and soft, working it with a plow, harrow, and tiller also brought the rocks to the surface.
      
Rocks make it harder for roots to grow. And without a root network that reaches deep into the ground, where water can be found, young plants cannot withstand long, dry spells. I wanted a bountiful, tasty harvest, so I spent hours, often under a hot sun, picking rocks.
      
When I was done, the garden looked great—until we tilled it again or until it rained.
      
“Where are those rocks coming from?” I asked my husband one day after a hard rain. “I thought I got all of them yesterday.”
      
“The rain brings the rocks to the surface,” he explained. “The harder the rain, the more rocks.”
      
We planted a garden on that plot of ground for 17 years and never ran out of rocks.
      
God works with me the same way. I am the soil. My faults, weaknesses and imperfections are the rocks that must be removed if my life is to be productive. Some of those rocks are easily seen, but others are buried deep and need the storms of life to bring them to the surface. Stubborn rocks of impatience, anger, envy, selfishness and bitterness seem to surface over and over again.
      
If I leave them there, they’ll stunt my growth and limit the harvest I long for. Removing them refines the soil of my soul so that when the long, hot, dry spells come, as they inevitably do, my spirit will not wither. Instead, nourished by roots grown deep and unhindered, I’ll continue to reach for the Son.
      
      
Thank you, God, for the storms of life that reveal the rocks that must be removed if I an to be fruitful for You. Amen.

      
Special-Tea: Read Mark 4:3-20