I love flowers. Anytime. Any place. For any occasion. For no occasion. Flowers seem to bring a sweet sense of something special to a room. When given by someone special they have deep meaning that is often not spoken. Roses are my favorites. Yellow roses. In the assortment of rose bushes around my yard there was only a miniature tree rose with tiny, sweet yellow roses. But there were no 'regular' yellow roses. Until now. My sweetheart gave me a beautiful yellow rose bush for Mother's Day. He will help me plant it in the backyard where I can see it from the kitchen and dining room windows. And the patio.
My dear little mother always give me a Mother's Day gift. I never know what wonderful things she has found and hidden away for that very special day when she celebrates motherhood with me. This year she gave me a gorgeous Martha Washington geranium for my patio. Or porch. Or wherever I choose to put it.Our church gave carnations to each lady 18 and over on Sunday. Our pastor and his wife struggled through several Mother's Days without children. It was painful for her and often brought tears. Then God surprised them with a son and later another son, now grown. They never forget that Mother's Day is not always a joyful day for every lady in the congregation so all ladies are celebrated. Mothers, Grandmothers and Great-Grandmothers are honored and a gift always awaits each lady at the end of the service. This year when nearly everyone was gone my dear mother and I were told that the remaining flowers would be thrown away if no one took them. Did we know someone who would appreciate them? Someone to bless with them? You bet I do! I brought them all home and kept them in water until this morning. Just before I left for the first care center where I minister on Tuesdays I put them into plastic to retain the moisture. They were in my arms as I walked through the door and handed them to the Activity Director to share with the residents. Everyone around us was thrilled and one man faultingly said, 'Thank you, thank you, thank you!' By the time I was ready to leave the building I saw small bouquets of carnations in different places. On side tables in the hallway. At the nurse's station. In the dining room. Every place that could be seen by the residents as they come and go through their day. And I smiled, knowing how they brightened the lives of the special people I have come to love. Simple, small things mean so much. Flowers that would be thrown away. Unexpected blessings.