I've learned something the hard way the last forty-eight hours: You can't rotate a photo from your phone that you send to your computer and then paste it to your blog without it turning side ways again. I give. The photo of the first of three flower arrangements I received last month will remain unposted. But I'll tell you about the Mosaics.
Two days after Sam left for college, an acquaintance from church invited me to a Bible study she leads on Monday nights. A day later, I sat in a room with The Mosaics, a colorful group of women from all walks of life with challenges that exceed my own.
One fights ALS and can't use her arms. Another suffers the consequences of a botched lasik eye surgery, hoping for corrective help in time. Another can't eat and carries a backpack with a g-tube for sustenance. Sitting in a room on a weekly basis with others who are going after Jesus in the midst of their ongoing health battles strengthens me.
They surprised me, the week of my birthday, with a flower arrangement as wild and vibrant as the Mosaics themselves. I thought about posting the sideways photo since they've rotated my perspective on life like the skewed picture, but decided it was too out of the box. For now you'll just have to imagine yellow tulips, white chrysanthemums, purple moon flowers, and a variety of other back yard beauties draped from a muted blue vase.
About the time pedals began to fall and the moon flowers shriveled up, I went to UGA for a weekend visit with both boys. Georgia Tech's club swim team competed in a meet at UGA in the afternoon while the Hodgson Singer's perfomed in an opera the same evening. Sam swam. Nathan sang. And since we were together only two days after my birthday, Nathan had a surprise arrangement waiting before I left Athens. He befriended a local florist during a horticulture class last spring and she came up with this arrangement after he described my personality.
Notice the red hot chili peppers.
Those flowers sat on my table the week grandma died speaking color, life, and beauty.
It took a few weeks to get everything together post grandma, but last Sunday, my voice and piano students presented a recital at a local retirement home. We gathered in their community room with a less than stellar piano and offered our best. It was a sweet time for all.
When the recital was over, one of my students came up and handed me a bouquet of flowers. Her sister had a similar batch in hand and I realized the flowers had been intended for my student, not me. I said, "Are you sure you don't want them?" She just smiled her shy smile and indicated that she wanted me to keep them. They're on my table now.
I could hardly walk to bed last night. Me legs wobblier than I understand. But my heart is full. And I'm grateful for new friends, for my boys who are growing into men, and for my students who face their fears and still give me flowers in the end.
"My lover spoke and said to me, 'Arise, my darling, my beautiful one, and come with me. See! The winter is past; the rains are over and gone. Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come" (Song of Songs 2: 10 - 12)
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