A few weeks ago, my 22 month old son walked in the door carrying a beautiful bouquet of fuchsia flowers. “He ye go, Mom-my.”
I’m telling you, this kid’s smile and dimples will get him a long way in life and spare him many pains (just like his dimpled Dad). Add out-of-the-blue blossoms to his charm and I was a puddle on the floor. This would have been an opportune time to ask Mommy for a cookie, or a Red Ryder BB Gun.
I kept those flowers for probably 10 days, hauling them to work (so our kitty cats wouldn’t eat them), hauling them back home for the weekend, and hauling them back to the office on Monday, carefully balancing the vase-half-full in the passenger seat and driving with one hand. Everytime someone noticed them, mentioned them, breathed in their aroma, or just anytime I caught them in my glance, a feeling of being sweetly-loved welled up in me. I’m a sucker for thoughtful gestures and anything beautiful.
Central Indiana is GORGEOUS this time of year. Have you noticed all the trees blooming? White ones, red-violet ones, barely pink ones… Fluffy trees, trees that snow petals, mossy-looking redbuds…
I have never seen a larger bouquet than a tree in bloom. And when I walk outside, surrounded by budding tree bouquets, created and given by God after the most ridiculous winter IN THE HISTORY OF FISHERS INDIANA, that feeling of being loved is even more intense. It bubbles up and pours out of me. Only a big, big God could hand over bouquet after bouquet of this magnitude. I absolutely can’t keep myself from grinning – and I look like a fool in love.
But I’m no fool.
Because His is the best love ever given.
“Now I am going to pursue her, lead her out into the wild openness, speak tenderly to her heart, and win it.” (My own paraphrase of Hosea 2:14)