Flower Power

It’s one of my earliest memories. Or is it a photo?…Talk about liminal space, photos are a portal through which we can be transported to another place and time.

This particular photo/memory is a faded black and white image, bordered by a white, textured edge. The picture is of me as a toddler, sitting in the grass. When is the last time I did that? Wispy blonde hair frames a sun-kissed and unlined face. Knock-kneed, bare footed, dirty legs are grounded to the earth before a bed of irises.

Long sleek flower stalks pierce through the air dramatically, in a fascinating shade of silvery green or is it blue?…It is a color I have drenched my house in.

But it is the face of the iris I remember most, the way the rounded buds break free of the sharp lines of the leaves, bursting forth with fuzzy curves and colorful petals in complementary shades of pale purple, soft white and mustardy yellow.

Staring into the giant face of a bearded iris, I was, I am, transfixed, captured by wonder.

It was so otherworldly looking. Even at a very young age I knew I could stare at it forever. Lose myself there. Even as a toddler it had the power to take me to another time, to still my soul, to communicate truth. I experienced this before I understood or could articulate it. Almost six decades later, they have not lost their power over me.

I am not alone. Flowers have long fascinated and inspired.

As a young stay at home mom my husband and I had a monthly date night. It was both expensive and priceless; some things are worth more than money. Our favorite spot was a small ranch house that had been converted into a restaurant by a charming Japanese family. A father, mother and daughter dressed in traditional Japanese clothing floated quietly from the kitchen to the table and back, nourishing not just our bodies but our relationship.

One of my favorite takeaways from those precious nights was a small flower frog that always displayed seasonal treasures on the counter in the bathroom. The simplicity of it was so compelling and refreshing. Just a few flowers, sometimes less, artfully arranged, in a pretty pottery bowl. In the fall it might be a couple of strikingly colorful leaves, or in the dead of winter a sculptural bare branch in contrast to the whorling needles of an evergreen. Abundant beauty is available all the time it said to me in the midst of my diaper filled days. It was a short season, one of my most favorite to revisit.

God is so good. I now get paid to walk the landscape yard, looking for these beautiful treasures, arranging them for others. I’m struck by how often a hymn rises to the surface as I collect my bounty. The lyrics float up from somewhere inside me like a bubble of baptism breath from the depths, where I have been known to hold it.

He walks, with me and he talks with me…

It’s the only line I know. I couldn’t tell you who sings it or where I might have heard it but it surfaces regularly as I follow the flowers.

When it comes to setting The Table of Plenty I am encouraged to start with flowers….To put myself in the place where the story of Salvation History begins ands ends… a garden. Eternity becomes present here. As it was in the beginning…

is NOW…

and ever shall…

BE…

Yes, let’s tarry here…