Old Flower…

Old flower… my yard, December 4, 2020

I tend to have difficulty tossing out old flowers. Perhaps it is because I am one… an old flower.

I once wore no make up or at least very little. Now it is my daily facade. You might not recognize me otherwise.

Aptly applied it provides me with a certain level of confidence. I can go into the world more easily, I am able to speak with you in more certain thought, I even smile at you with a level of assurance in which I am sure conveys my delight.

I am caused to ponder these bonds this morning with bags under my eyes from last night’s drive home on too little sleep after days of too much salt, too few veggies, not nearly enough water and hardly any exercise. Old flowers need better nourishment than this…

No need for sympathy toward me. These were all within my purview of change but other variables were also at play. This was the best I could do. I could be zooming for workout this moment, but I’ve chosen time with you instead. I have so precious little time with you these days in current life challenges. Not to mention that this old flower just had a birthday … older flower… feeling it this morning…

Yes, feeling it, I was rudely wrenched from the warm womb of covers where I was comfortably headache-less (2 previous days otherwise) and the gentleness of being enveloped in pleasant wakefulness, aeuphoria of its own, by incessant leg cramping and them birthing me pitifully, painfully into this day.

Adding layers to the “birth”day clothes and blearily attempting to make sense of my morning with its missing pieces I went to see the morning’s promise. This old flower donning lavender and white (cute!) froggie pj’s well worth a smile in return since the froggies are broadly smiling, crocs and green hoody took me out of doors. My inspiration to write you waited on the knockout rose bush.

There on this cold December morning (yes, in the 30’s) were several new buds… beautifully delicate; the long elegant sepals at varied stages of opening twisted gracefully out and upward as if to strum a slow chord beckoning both eye and thought. “Linger,” it seemed to say. I hear this often from nature šŸ™‚

I looked closer. And I know what I see… what was and is, is also to come. (Ref: Revelation 4:8) what has faded gives new life before it is gone.(Proverbs 31:30)

The sepals…they caught hold of me as might two gentle hands hold his love’s cheeks directing her attention from the much to only one… oh my, from new flower i looked over to… yes, love… old flower… but why? What left, has old flower for me to see?

Her outer protective covering, sepals, remained but the glorious petals of a beautiful, richly hued rose was no longer beset by the lovileness of youth. … now old flower, perhaps no flower at all but with a grace and beauty all her own.

And i understand… As youthfulness fades; as confidence wanes, as body weakens often to less appeal i an still me and you are still you. And you are the only you I know. Yes, you are hearing me say these words but they are from your God. It is he who knows both your outward parts and inward being. (Psalm 139:13-16)

This covering, they are Jesus’ sepals which last beyond the bud even adding new feather-like growth after spent petals lay about; the outer covering is His grace and love for us that we may share it forward … in the new bud just as the old flower. It is just as present after the bud as before its emergence.

I don’t know about your needs… but I need his grace, I need his mercy and i need his protection… sometimes from the world around me and sometimes from myself!

I need his confidence… and as I do, I wish his beauty be what is seen of me …

It is my prayer that Jesus is who you see first… seeing a thing far beyond the make-up is precious. He is the author and perfector of my soul (Hebrews 12:2-3) no facade there! Just his deep and pure love for you. I see him in you!

Oh my… the lessons I learn as the silence of God’s creation cries out, “GLORIOUS IS MY NAME!”

With longing love from an old flower,

Sondra

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