| Sandra felt as low as the
heels of her shoes as she pushed against a November gust and the florist
shop door. Her life had been easy, like a spring breeze. Then in the
fourth month of her second pregnancy, a minor automobile accident stole
her ease.
During this Thanksgiving week she would
have delivered a son. She grieved over her loss. As if that weren't
enough, her husband's company threatened a transfer. Then her sister,
whose annual holiday visit she coveted, called saying she could not
come.
What's worse, Sandra's friend infuriated
her by suggesting her grief was a God-given path to maturity that would
allow her to empathize with others who suffer. "She has no idea
what I'm feeling," thought Sandra with a shudder.
"Thanksgiving? Thankful for what?" she wondered aloud. For a
careless driver whose truck was hardly scratched when he rear-ended her?
For an airbag that saved her life but took that of her child?
"Good afternoon, can I help you?"
The shop clerk's approach startled her.
"I....I need an arrangement,
"stammered Sandra. "For Thanksgiving?
Do you want beautiful but ordinary, or would you like to challenge the
day with a customer favorite I call the Thanksgiving Special?"
asked the shop clerk.
"I'm convinced that flowers
tell stories," she continued.
"Are you looking for something that
conveys 'gratitude' this Thanksgiving?
"Not exactly!" Sandra blurted out. "In the last five
months, everything that could go wrong has gone wrong. " Sandra
regretted her outburst, and was surprised when the shop clerk said,
"I have the perfect arrangement for you."
Then the door's small bell rang, and the shop clerk said, "Hi
Barbara...let me get your order." She politely excused herself and
walked toward a small workroom, then quickly reappeared, carrying an
arrangement of greenery, bows, and long-stemmed thorny roses.
Except the ends of the rose stems were neatly snipped...there were no
flowers.
"Want this in a box?" asked the clerk.
Sandra watched for the customer's
response. Was this a joke? Who would want rose stems with no flowers!?!
She waited for laughter, but neither woman laughed. "Yes,
please," Barbara replied with an appreciative smile.
"You'd think after three years of getting the special, I wouldn't
be so moved by its significance, but I can feel it right here, all over
again," she said as she gently tapped her chest.
"Uhh," stammered Sandra, "that lady just left with, uhh...
she just left with no flowers!"
"Right...I cut off the flowers. That's the Special... I call it the
Thanksgiving Thorns Bouquet.
"Oh, come on, you can't tell me someone is willing to pay for
that?" exclaimed Sandra.
"Barbara came into the shop three years ago feeling very much like
you feel today," explained the clerk. "She thought she had
very little to be thankful for. She had lost her father to cancer, the
family business was failing, her son was into drugs, and she was facing
major surgery."
"That same year I had lost my husband, "continued the
clerk," and for the first time in my life, I had to spend the
holidays alone. I had no children, no husband, no family nearby, and too
great a debt to allow any travel.
"So what did you do?" asked Sandra. "I learned to be
thankful for thorns," answered the clerk quietly. "I've always
thanked God for good things in life and never thought to ask Him why
those good things happened to me, but when bad stuff hit, did I ever
ask! It took time for me to learn that dark times are important.
I always enjoyed the 'flowers' of life, but it took thorns to show me
the beauty of God's comfort. You know, the Bible says that God comforts
us when we're afflicted, and from His consolation we learn to comfort
others.
"Sandra sucked in her breath as she thought about the very thing
her friend had tried to tell her. "I guess the truth is I don't
want comfort.
I've lost a baby and I'm angry with God."
Just then someone else walked in the
shop.
"Hey, Phil!" shouted the clerk to the balding, rotund man.
"My wife sent me in to get our usual Thanksgiving
arrangement....twelve thorny, long-stemmed stems!" laughed Phil as
the clerk handed him a tissue-wrapped arrangement from the refrigerator.
"Those are for your wife?" asked Sandra incredulously.
"Do you mind me asking why she wants something that looks like
that?
"No...I'm glad you asked," Phil replied. "Four years ago
my wife and I nearly divorced. After forty years, we were in a real
mess, but with the Lord's grace and guidance, we slogged through problem
after problem.
He rescued our marriage. Jenny here (the clerk) told me she kept a vase
of rose stems to remind her of what she learned from "thorny"
times, and that was good enough for me. I took home some of those stems.
My wife and I decided to label each one for a specific
"problem" and give thanks to Him for what that problem taught
us."
As Phil paid the clerk, he said to Sandra, "I highly recommend the
Special!"
"I don't know if I can be thankful for the thorns in my life."
Sandra said to the clerk. "It's all too... fresh."
"Well," the clerk replied carefully, "my experience has
shown me that thorns make roses more precious. We treasure God's
providential care more during trouble than at any other time.
Remember, it was a crown of thorns that Jesus wore so we might know His
love. Don't resent the thorns."
Tears rolled down Sandra's cheeks. For the first time since the
accident, she loosened her grip on resentment. "I'll take those
twelve long-stemmed thorns, please," she managed to choke out.
"I hoped you would," said the
clerk gently. "I'll have them ready in a minute."
"Thank you. What do I owe you?" asked Sandra.
"Nothing." said the clerk.
"Nothing but a promise to allow God
to heal your heart. The first year's arrangement is always on me.
"The clerk smiled and handed a card to Sandra.
"I'll attach this card to your arrangement, but maybe you'd like to
read it first."
It read:
"Dear God, I have never thanked you for my thorns. I have thanked
you a thousand times for my roses, but never once for my thorns. Teach
me the glory of the cross I bear; teach me the value of my thorns. Show
me that I have climbed closer to you along the path of pain.
Show me that, through my tears, the colors of your rainbow look much
more brilliant."
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