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
favourite 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, round 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 colours of your rainbow look much more brilliant."
We sometimes hang on by a thread.
