He loves me...He loves me not....He loves me....He loves me not! I found myself staring at color photo of a field of daisies. I love daisies. They're my favorite and last summer my husband and I were in Gatlinburg, TN hiking through the Smokies and we ran upon this field of daisies in Cades Cove. It was breathtaking. I was on my hands and knees snapping close-ups, far aways, and upside downs of the petaled wonders. I wanted to remember them.
It seems when I was a child, daisies were everywhere. They bloomed all summer everywhere--along the streets, the highways, in the fields, around barns and houses. The white petals were always a lasting summer treat when everything else had faded. But I've noticed in the last several years, they're becoming a rarety.
As I looked past the photo on the wall and out the window, white powder dripped from the sky...something else that's been a rarity in our area for some time. I had to wonder, where's the simple pleasures of life going? They're fading. Just like the stories about our children that make us laugh.
I recall my best friend Marty telling me about her 5 year old, Wendy. Marty was pregnant and cleaning the bathroom when the the faucet on the tub stuck and she couldn't get the shower turned off. The door bell rang and it was the area minister dropping in for a visit. When Marty told him what was going on, he ran to the bathroom and tried to help shut down the shower.
In the meantime, the phone rang -- figures...only when you're in the middle of disaster. So Marty hears her 5 year old answer the phone.
"Uh huh. Mommy's here. (pause) Uh, huh, you can talk to her but she can't come to the phone right now. (pause) Because she's in the shower with the preacher."
My friend says to this day, she still doesn't know who called but she was sure her 5-year-old started a conspiracy that shook the walls of the church for years to come.
Those are the moments we cherish. The moments we seem to lose touch with as the world continually speeds ahead. Little things like catching a snowflake on your tongue or plucking the petals of a daisy...he loves me, he loves me not.
The older I get the more I hold tight to these moments. The more I cling to the scent of my infant sons as they lay naked against my chest sleeping. The soft feel of their tiny feet and the sweet taste of their pudgy fingers when I kissed them. Ah...those moments.
What's in a daisy. Easy enough. Each petal holds the hope of the Father because on His daisies there are not "loves me not" petals. Regardless of the whir of the passage of time, I'm blessed to have the memories of a quieter time nestled in my heart, caught in a breath of a photo, or through the here today, gone in a few hours bit of snow. Every moment is filled with joy. Believe it or not, the wisdom of age even mellows the bad memories and allows me to reflect on the good instead.
It won't be long. Nope, not long at all, until the daisies are peeking through the ground, lifting their heads in worship to the Creator who designed each petal.
What's in a daisy? The undeserved love of the Father. Free for the picking and as long lasting as the seasons.
It seems when I was a child, daisies were everywhere. They bloomed all summer everywhere--along the streets, the highways, in the fields, around barns and houses. The white petals were always a lasting summer treat when everything else had faded. But I've noticed in the last several years, they're becoming a rarety.
As I looked past the photo on the wall and out the window, white powder dripped from the sky...something else that's been a rarity in our area for some time. I had to wonder, where's the simple pleasures of life going? They're fading. Just like the stories about our children that make us laugh.
I recall my best friend Marty telling me about her 5 year old, Wendy. Marty was pregnant and cleaning the bathroom when the the faucet on the tub stuck and she couldn't get the shower turned off. The door bell rang and it was the area minister dropping in for a visit. When Marty told him what was going on, he ran to the bathroom and tried to help shut down the shower.
In the meantime, the phone rang -- figures...only when you're in the middle of disaster. So Marty hears her 5 year old answer the phone.
"Uh huh. Mommy's here. (pause) Uh, huh, you can talk to her but she can't come to the phone right now. (pause) Because she's in the shower with the preacher."
My friend says to this day, she still doesn't know who called but she was sure her 5-year-old started a conspiracy that shook the walls of the church for years to come.
Those are the moments we cherish. The moments we seem to lose touch with as the world continually speeds ahead. Little things like catching a snowflake on your tongue or plucking the petals of a daisy...he loves me, he loves me not.
The older I get the more I hold tight to these moments. The more I cling to the scent of my infant sons as they lay naked against my chest sleeping. The soft feel of their tiny feet and the sweet taste of their pudgy fingers when I kissed them. Ah...those moments.
What's in a daisy. Easy enough. Each petal holds the hope of the Father because on His daisies there are not "loves me not" petals. Regardless of the whir of the passage of time, I'm blessed to have the memories of a quieter time nestled in my heart, caught in a breath of a photo, or through the here today, gone in a few hours bit of snow. Every moment is filled with joy. Believe it or not, the wisdom of age even mellows the bad memories and allows me to reflect on the good instead.
It won't be long. Nope, not long at all, until the daisies are peeking through the ground, lifting their heads in worship to the Creator who designed each petal.
What's in a daisy? The undeserved love of the Father. Free for the picking and as long lasting as the seasons.
