Day Twenty-Three - April 23, 2020

Today, unlike yesterday - I felt like I was hit by a truck… coffee, walk, coffee. Repeat. Sunrise. Sunset.

*****

At lunchtime, Andrei and I took the dog for a walk in the park next to our house. Between the park and our house is an interesting little greenhouse establishment that mostly caters to wholesale buyers. Ever since Easter, I’ve been watching the steady movement of hundreds of unsold tulip and daffodil plants being moved from one area to another. And then again. And again. 

I’ve been super curious to figure out what their plans are for off-loading hundreds of blooming plants that are past their prime and beginning to wilt. 

As we drove home at lunchtime today, I saw an older woman moving vast amounts of plants - again. I quickly pulled over and asked what their plans are for the flats of flowering bulbs. 

She proceeded to offer me every plant for $2 each or I could take a huge bag of 50+ viable blooming bulbs for $10. I passed her $20 and hauled two huge bags to the trunk of the van. 

Andrei, always willing yet generally confused at stuff like this, asked why we were buying dying flowers in a bag… I answered with a huge smile - “...they’re amazing and already proven to be viable!”

Of course I shared with a neighbor… of course I have plans to share with others as soon as we’re released to plant bulbs in friend’s backyards… !

I read a quote this morning in my devotional by Lilias Trotter. “A flower that stops at its flowering - misses its purpose. We were created for more than just our own spiritual development; reproduction, not mere development, is the goal of a mature being - reproduction in other lives.” 

-Parables of the Cross 

The purpose of a flower is to reproduce, not just produce flowers. Likewise, we were not created to develop merely ourselves… but rather to carry the aroma of heaven and thereby draw others to the Cross. 

And an old old poem by William Blake (1757-1827)

Eternity’s Sunrise

“He who binds to himself a joy

Does the winged life destroy;

But he who kisses the joy as it flies

Lives in Eternity’s sunrise.”

I know this is written a zillion years ago… and I know poem interpretation is a lost art… but, if we skim over the old English for just a moment, we might consider … 

What do I hold dear - fiercely within my grasp? Do I live full and free? 

May I find strength to open my clenched fists that joy may be reproduced in me. 

Sunrise. Sunset.