The Pleasure Found in Fading Flowers

This morning I had to dump the remains of my Mother’s Day bouquets into the trash.  I did so with a heavy heart.  I wish I could press each one between the pages of a book.  And while an extensive library of books fills one wall in my parlor, I think I’d soon have bulging books, their bindings expanded until the glue holding the pages together surrendered in defeat.

My mom had a quandary.  She would sing “Give me the roses while I live,” and yet lament the demise of flowers picked from their mother plant.  Unfortunately she couldn’t have it both ways.  Either you pick ‘em and give ‘em to someone you love or you leave them to wither on the bush.

When talking about no death in heaven, I’ve heard skeptics  ask, “What happens if a child picks a posy of daisies for Jesus?  In time won’t the population be overwhelmed with virtually ‘silk flowers’?  Also uncut grass?  Has God really thought this through?  What about the need for Port-a-potties?  I must confess  I’ve pondered such problems until my mind begins creating crazy solutions, to which the Creator of the Universe will never be forced to consider.  When my brain is finally exhausted, I claim the promise of 1 Corinthians 2:9 NIV in faith. “No eye has seen, no ear has heard,no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love Him.”

That’s the pleasure found in fading flowers.  I again remember God’s love is everlasting; His creativity beyond imagination, including mine; and I will have an eternity to discover the answers to all my earthly questions.  So what answers are you eager to have answered?

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