THE THANKSGIVING
"SPECIAL" BOUQUET – author unknown
Sandra felt as low as the heels of her
Birkenstocks as she pushed against a November gust and the florist shop door.
Her life had been easy, like 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 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.
For a careless driver whose truck was hardly scratched when he rear-ended? For
an air bag that saved her life but took that of her child?
“Good afternoon, may I help you?” The shop
clerk’s approach started 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
nipped: 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.
“Uh,” stammered Sandra, “that lady just left
with, uh… she just left with no flowers!”
“Right,” said the clerk, “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 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, had just spent 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 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 have 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 into 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 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 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?” Sarah asked.
“Nothing; 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 attached this care to your
arrangement, but maybe you would like to read it first.”
It read: “My 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 life 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.”
Praise Him for your roses, thank Him for your thorns.
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