Stop and Smell the Roses

I yanked with my gloved hands as the bush’s thorns started to bite into my palms.

“Come out!” I said through gritted teeth.  “You will never win!”

I was attempting to follow through with my spring cleaning list and this eyesore was being removed whether it wanted to be or not.  I had worked around the roots with my shovel and thought that it would easily slide right out of the earth.  Instead, it wouldn’t budge.  I felt a twinge across my lower back as the muscles strained there and along the back of my calves.  Without warning, I was airborne across the lawn with the prize in hand over my head. It had played a nasty trick by suddenly and unexpectedly releasing its hold.  I landed with a thud directly on my back while clutching the dirty monster to my chest.

I looked up at the sky and did an inward safety inspection.  From time to time when I have taken a spill, I often lay still for a minute to make sure nothing is fractured, dangling or throbbing incessantly.  Feeling no pain and knowing that the coast was clear, I began to laugh.  I pictured the neighbors peering out their windows seeing an irate woman yelling at foliage and then being flung to the ground in a heap.  I sat up and brushed the dead grass out of my hair.  I was covered in soil but I was triumphant.  Not only had I gotten the rebellious bush out of its place, but I could check something off my to do list, and I had done it myself.

A few days prior to my seek and destroy mission, I sat on my back porch to write down what I wanted to get done around the house.  I had come to have a love hate relationship with my dwelling after it was awarded to me in the divorce.  My marriage had been one of the traditional nature where I attended to the indoor tasks while he worked outside.  I had found myself slightly unprepared to handle both, and my budget wasn’t allowing for too much improvement. I had determined to do what I could to clean up and declutter where I could without generating an expense. Removing the long forgotten about landscaping had been a priority.

As the list came together, I glanced over at the above ground pool that had a stocking cap at the bottom of it.  In the days when it was working properly, a cover would have concealed it at this time of the year.  But, the liner had succumbed to a tear, so it was drained and my youngest daughter and her friend had found delight in constructing a snowman in it over the winter. Frosty had melted and his hat, nose and eyes were all that was left of him.  It brought me a bit of sadness to see the pool in that state of disarray as I recalled the girls and I enjoying soaks in it on hot summer days. I knew I couldn’t fix it due to money constraints so I didn’t add it to my list.

As I sipped on my hot tea that morning, a thought went through my mind,

Do what you can on your list.  I will send a man to help with the pool.

I didn’t know what that meant exactly so I began to clean up what I could a little at a time day by day.

One afternoon, about a month later, my doorbell rang. When I answered it, a man with a city badge hanging on a lanyard greeted me.

“Hi. I am Patrick from the city.  Your home is due for an inspection for property tax purposes.”

I let him in and we walked from room to room as he made notes and checked out the interior of the house.

When we got out on the back porch, I said,

“That pool bugs me.  It is so ugly right now. It needs a new liner.  Since my divorce, I haven’t been able to fix it.”

He got really quiet and took a step closer to the window to look down on it.

“I think I might be able to help you with that.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.  When I made the statements about the pool, it was more of a complaint than a proposal.  I wasn’t asking for help. I was bemoaning my existence.

“I can’t promise you anything but let me see what I can do.”

He had my contact information and we parted ways.

In a few days, he called asking if he and a friend could come over and inspect the pool.  I gave the go ahead and after he and his friend looked it over, he said,

“We would like to fix your pool for you.”

“What?”  Of course, my money fears surfaced so I said, “I don’t really have the money to pay for a new liner right now.  So, that is very nice of both of you, but I can’t pay for it.”

“We don’t want to be paid.  We want to fix it for you.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” his friend replied. “It should be pretty easy to do.  I work in the pool business so I know how to do them, and I can get the supplies fairly cheap.”

He went on to say that he was only in town for a few days to visit but he would enjoy doing the work.

That is when it came back to me….

I will send a man to help with the pool. 

I agreed to let them fix it, and within a few days my pool was up and running again.  Not only did they both work on it in the evening, but they also purchased chemicals that I needed to keep it in good shape. They didn’t ask me to be home while they were there, but requested that the side gate remain unlocked so they could come and go.

One night, I arrived home and went outside to see how they were coming along.  I found three different colored lounge chairs sitting on the deck. They knew that I was a single mom with two daughters, so they had purchased us each a place to sit poolside.  The pool was filled with sparkling, crystal clear water.   It had been restored to perfection.

After all that, and many years later, my fears of not having enough money or being taken care of should not even exist anymore.  Right?  No. I still fight with it at times when I am faced with uncertainty and not knowing how I am going to overcome a situation.

The other night as I was retiring for the day, I found myself wondering about my finances.  In that moment, I had completely forgotten of the story I just shared with you and all the other ones that have transpired over the years where I have been blessed with supernatural help. I went to bed questioning the upcoming months and some changes that will occur.  I am not an ebb and flow type person where I will ‘wait’ and see what happens. I like to plan things out at times, and when I can’t, I find myself doubting the trusted hand that has been with me every step of the way.  I got this message:

Buy yourself a bouquet of pink roses tomorrow.  Inhale the scent of them and know that I am in charge of everything.

My thoughts were no longer on finances but the idea that pink usually wasn’t my color of choice for roses.  I usually gravitate toward bright, bold, and dramatic colors.  Then, I thought,

How much will this cost me?

I drifted off to sleep wondering how roses were going to improve my outlook on life.

I was walking into the store the next day and again came the words,

Buy yourself a bouquet of pink roses.  Breathe in their scent and know that I am in charge of your life.

I obediently walked right over to the floral section.  There was an array of all colors, but only one small bunch that housed five pink roses.  I grabbed the cellophane wrapper and turned it around to check for a price.  A small label was attached to the front that read: Faith.

I immediately looked for more pink roses and found none.  I checked all the other flowers for the same word and could not find it!  Some said smile, some said freedom, but not a single batch of them had this message written on them. I gently placed them on the bottom of my empty shopping cart.  Tears began to well in my eyes as I smiled and thought how absurd my worries are.  Just more proof that we are loved unconditionally even if we don’t feel it at times.  In all of your ups and downs with this life, cast your care on God to bring you through, and take some time to stop and smell the roses.

 

flowers

 

 

 

 

 

Heaven Scent

Whipping Cream. Cola. Whipping Cream. Cola.

When I enter a grocery store without a list, I mentally repeat what I need so I don’t forget before leaving.  One item was in dairy, and the other would be found in the pop section, so I took off in that direction.   The next thing I knew, I was reading labels on brownie packages, crumb cakes and cookies.  How had I gotten to the bakery department? When did I take a detour to salivate over all the baked goods?

This phenomena is similar to when you get in your car and drive to a destination and you have no clue how you got there.  Your mind is on autopilot and without much effort, you find yourself where you wanted to be.  However, in this case, I was not where I had intended to go.  As if waking up from a short term case of amnesia I thought,

What am I doing?  It’s still January!  Why am I clutching desserts which I swore off just a few short weeks ago?  This usually doesn’t happen at least until February!

I put back the forbidden fruit pie and my fingers brushed up against a large circular container of cookies.  In that brief second, I was taken back to a time in my life when survival seemed to be a struggle.

I was looking over a math problem with one of my girls when I heard the familiar beep of his horn.  A couple honks to indicate that I needed to open the garage door.  This was a ritual on Friday afternoons.  As a volunteer at the local food shelf, he faithfully helped hand out items to those who found themselves in tough financial situations  Often, he would make trips to various stores to pick up extra boxes and food items including baked goods that were nearing the end of their shelf life.  At the end of his shift, he was allowed to take what he wanted, especially those things that probably wouldn’t survive the weekend.  With me and my daughters in mind, he would pick up an assortment of products that he thought would help alleviate the hardship.

This was in the wake of my divorce when life was uncertain and my worries were at an all time high.  I was swimming in new waters as a single mother hanging on to God as a life preserver and wondering if I would ever see a semblance of normal again.

Every day I had the nagging thought that I was not going to make it.  I don’t know exactly what I thought that meant, but I constantly was anxious about not being a good mother, falling short on my bills and a host of other tragedies I imagined would befall me.  I slept in small amounts and at times ate next to nothing just to make sure my children had enough.  The dark circles under my eyes gave away my inner turmoil, and falling asleep the minute I sat down also was a clue to those around me that I was exhausted mentally, physically and spiritually.

That particular Friday when I got out of bed for the day, I kept thinking about flowers and how much I missed having a fresh bunch of them displayed on the dining room table.  I had never gotten many of them except the occasional birthday or Valentine’s bouquet, but when I did, I absolutely cherished them.  I would drag out the best vase I could find and fuss over them for days trying to make them last forever.  When I had to throw them away, it felt like I had attended a funeral, and I knew it would probably be a long time before I would see any again.

It was beyond me why I was thinking about flowers that day.  There wasn’t any extra money lying around to cover the cost.  And I never had been in the habit of purchasing any for myself. I guess I was under the impression that in order to have them, they had to be given to me on a special occasion.

Despite those beliefs, I kept seeing images of roses as clear as if they were already in my home, and I recalled how they smelled fresh out of the package.  While walking through the living room, I thought,

“I really wish I had some flowers.”

I put the idea out of my mind as I became preoccupied with school work with the girls until I heard the familiar sound of his horn. I walked over and hit the button and heard the chugging sound of the door going up.

Before I could get my shoes on, he was already at the door handing me bags of fruit and other packages.

“Not a whole lot there today,” he said with a shake of his head.

“That’s okay,” I said as I took what he had brought. “Is there more? Do I need to come out and get anything?”

“No. I can get it. The shelves were kind of bare today.”

I began unpacking everything on the counter and pulled the garbage can over. This was part of the sorting process. Most of the food was on its last leg of freshness so I often had to discard moldy pieces of fruit, meat or cheese. And even when I thought what I kept was okay, often the next day I would have to throw more as it had succumbed to death overnight.

The two girls came into the kitchen to see what treasures their grandpa had found.  Organic blue tortilla chips for salsa were usually fresh, and sometimes a welcome vegetable tray would somehow manage to stay unshriveled. They always found something to snack on as they watched me put things in the garbage and some into the refrigerator.

As I separated the good from the bad and ugly, the one staple that was never stale were the cookies that had been donated.  The food shelf staff were told to give away more of the nutritious items to families versus baked goods, so there was always an abundance of them left over.  The stores had to get rid of them a few days before expiration and the agreement was that whatever was donated had to be taken.

So it was no surprise to come across a gigantic cookie tray in the pile.  I took half of its contents and put them into a freezer bag to ward off impeding doom and the other half were left to sit on the black plastic tray under the clear dome lid. As I was putting the cover back on, the door opened.  The sound of crunching cellophane made me glance up.  In each hand he was holding a bouquet of flowers.

“These were donated and no one wanted them.  Would you?  I saved one for your mom too.  I tried to pick out the ones that looked the best.  These look pretty good.”

I walked over to him and peered into the bags.  Both bouquets were roses that were surrounded by green foliage and white baby’s breath.

“They had flowers at the food shelf?  Why?”

“I don’t know.  They were donated to be given away.”

I took both bags happily, but I found myself perplexed.

I was having trouble deciding whether I had said a true prayer for a bouquet of flowers or if my visions of them beforehand were God’s way of letting me know I was going to get a delivery later.  I had not been specific about the amount that I wanted, and in true form to how it goes with the divine, I was given two bouquets when one would have thrilled me to pieces.

I washed my crystal vase and combined the two into a bright array that made me smile every time I walked past them. It made me feel like I wasn’t struggling and that money wasn’t so tight.  The impact of that day stayed with me and confirmed a passage that says: “Your Father knows what you need even before you ask..”

The roses and their fragrance were a constant reminder that I was not alone in my circumstances.  I found strength in the idea that a pair of listening ears, caring eyes, and strong hands were always at the ready to help right on time when my faith was stretched to the limit. This small gesture was an enormous uplift and boost to my wavering confidence.

My circumstances have gotten a lot better since then. But, I will never forget that I was the recipient of something that was heaven scent.

 

roses