Two years ago, I believe I was called to be a small scale flower farmer. I spent that first year learning the difference between gardening (which I knew well) and farming (which I didn't). I read The Flower Farmer, by Lynn Byczynski, devoured Floret's blog, planted and planted, and (gasp!) actually CUT my flowers. This last thing, cutting, was a test. I always had trouble decapitating my flowers..."if you really want to be a flower farmer, Lorrie," I told myself, "you MUST be able to cut them fearlessly." Also, I had to learn to make bouquets 😳! Very scary, since my skills seemed pretty much on par with my six year old. That summer I fearlessly cut, fearfully arranged, and gave my friends MANY practice bouquets with the admonition to please give me helpful feedback (vase life, style, what they did and didn't like). It was an exciting and stretching time. It still is!
I've learned so very many things in this adventure, and I hope to share many of them here. But today I need to share one aspect in particular. One that I never anticipated in a hundred years, and it humbles me, and brings both deep joy and sorrow together.
I never expected that I would be invited into the most holy moments of humanity.
I never contemplated that my flowers would be in the hands of a bride when she took the vow to share all of herself with the love of her life for the rest of her life. That I'd be invited back into she and her husband's lives to celebrate the welcoming of their first child. I had no idea.
I remember the phone call I received, asking me to deliver a bouquet to a friend on hospice. So humbling... to be chosen to give a dear one the last gift they would give her before heaven. I remember wondering what would bless this woman most. What would I want if I were confined to the house for my last days? I thought, "I'd want it to smell like outside in the garden." That bouquet ended up being "two-faced," so she could have two looks just by turning the vase, and filled with herbs to make her room fragrant. Handing that bouquet to her husband at their home was a moment I won't forget. We spent some time together talking and praying, and my life was changed. I had no idea.
And that moment when my dear friend would ask me to decorate the church to welcome the hundreds of people that came to honor her son, the friend of my children, at his memorial service. He was an amazing young man, one never to be forgotten. A man of honor and integrity, and a young man who LOVED Jesus, and loved the people Jesus put in his path - ALL of the people Jesus put in his path. And I was invited into this painful, horrible, and holy moment. A moment of immense joy beyond imagining for him. But a moment that left an unfilled chasm in the lives of his family and all who knew him. They asked me to try to make it look "woodsy" in the church. Colin loved the woods. Three local nurseries went above and beyond. They lent me a tremendous number of plants to decorate the church like the woods. And that girl that God asked to start a flower farm, who couldn't make a bouquet the year before? He helped her bring the woods to a church. Amazing grace.
Colin left us a year ago today. When I finish this post, I will go in and make the bouquet some mutual friends ordered for Colin's family. Another holy moment.
Such a humbling thing, to be invited into holy moments.
I had no idea.
Thank You, Jesus, for calling me to this.
I've learned so very many things in this adventure, and I hope to share many of them here. But today I need to share one aspect in particular. One that I never anticipated in a hundred years, and it humbles me, and brings both deep joy and sorrow together.
I never expected that I would be invited into the most holy moments of humanity.
I never contemplated that my flowers would be in the hands of a bride when she took the vow to share all of herself with the love of her life for the rest of her life. That I'd be invited back into she and her husband's lives to celebrate the welcoming of their first child. I had no idea.
I remember the phone call I received, asking me to deliver a bouquet to a friend on hospice. So humbling... to be chosen to give a dear one the last gift they would give her before heaven. I remember wondering what would bless this woman most. What would I want if I were confined to the house for my last days? I thought, "I'd want it to smell like outside in the garden." That bouquet ended up being "two-faced," so she could have two looks just by turning the vase, and filled with herbs to make her room fragrant. Handing that bouquet to her husband at their home was a moment I won't forget. We spent some time together talking and praying, and my life was changed. I had no idea.
And that moment when my dear friend would ask me to decorate the church to welcome the hundreds of people that came to honor her son, the friend of my children, at his memorial service. He was an amazing young man, one never to be forgotten. A man of honor and integrity, and a young man who LOVED Jesus, and loved the people Jesus put in his path - ALL of the people Jesus put in his path. And I was invited into this painful, horrible, and holy moment. A moment of immense joy beyond imagining for him. But a moment that left an unfilled chasm in the lives of his family and all who knew him. They asked me to try to make it look "woodsy" in the church. Colin loved the woods. Three local nurseries went above and beyond. They lent me a tremendous number of plants to decorate the church like the woods. And that girl that God asked to start a flower farm, who couldn't make a bouquet the year before? He helped her bring the woods to a church. Amazing grace.
Colin left us a year ago today. When I finish this post, I will go in and make the bouquet some mutual friends ordered for Colin's family. Another holy moment.
Such a humbling thing, to be invited into holy moments.
I had no idea.
Thank You, Jesus, for calling me to this.