I really like flowers. Like, a lot. If I manage to walk through a flower garden and come out the other side without having a flower in my hair (or disguising the evidence of my crime in someone else’s hair), it is only because of an extreme show of self-control.
Here in Timor, I actually haven’t seen very many flowers. We live in the city, and it’s the dry season, so there is a noticeable lack of vegetation. The flowers I have seen have been so lovely though.
On Sabbath we visited a friend’s house for potluck, and it was all I could do to keep from asking her if I could pick one of her Hibiscus’. Even as I write I’m watching Miguel and his friend play in our pool, but at the same time I’m admiring the pots of multi-colored bougainvilleas that line the poolside patio. There are pink ones, purple ones, red ones, and white ones. They’re just so beautiful.
The flowers I’m most tempted to pick, however, are the ones right outside our door. I don’t know what kind they are, and I’ve never seen them before. There are pink ones and white ones and ones whose petals are pink at the bottom and fade to white at the top. They grow close to the ground on waxy leaves, and they look sort of like tiny, wrinkly, carnations. Probably the only reason I haven’t picked one is because I’m afraid it would close soon afterwards. Every morning they dot our front yard, and every afternoon they close up. I would be so sad if I picked one and it closed.
Yet one day, I won’t have to worry about the flowers I pick closing.
“And I saw another field full of all kinds of flowers, and as I plucked them I cried out, They will never fade… And I saw the little ones climb, or if they chose, use their little wings and fly to the top of the mountains, and pluck the never-fading flowers.” (2SG 53.1)
May our Lord Jesus come quickly! As the song says, “I want to go to heaven, pick a never fading flower…”