Two bouquets of flowers sat perched on my table. Flowers plucked, carefully chosen and gathered, placed in sippy cups by loving hands. One adorned with a scarf knotted around its neck, soaking in the soggy stems. I watched the sunflowers turn crunchy and the leaves die. I held them dear, these little gifts; beauty faded.
Beauty fades; mine fades.
I felt as withered as the blooms I dropped into the trash bin yesterday, as inglorious. My heart felt knotted as the strings on the scarf in the attempted bow.
Through tears I washed the Dora colored vase, the pungent water poured out, like mine had moments before-- in anger, harsh words. Ugly words. And it stank.
The flowers faded, only they had no choice. I did.
My sorrow ran deep; my sin held no beauty.
I felt God’s love in the embrace of a man, my husband. As I curled into his strong arms, smelt his cologne, I marveled at the love of God. His forgiveness is always one sided. He never needs ours. He forgives fully knowing that we are going to fail again.
For too long I ran from His forgiveness. I was like Eve, hiding, hoping that if I didn’t look God in the eye, He wouldn’t see my nakedness. It was not beautiful. And then He offered me something to hide behind—the robe of His Son. That precious blood stained garment. And I knew, not just knew, but believed then that He loved me. For when He saw me, He saw beauty. He saw His Son.
His love has washed away my pungent water.
And so we will gather new flowers.
When company was near, my dear 6-year-old surveyed the room and declared, “It’s not ready. We need flowers.” Beauty is needed. Beauty completes.
2 Corinthians 7:9 I underlined this as I read: “Now I rejoice, not that you were made sorry, but that your sorrow led to repentance.”
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