“Consider the wildflowers, no one is dressed as beautifully as they are." ~ Luke 12:27
The last night of her mother’s life, she seemed resigned
and poetic. Her bout with leukemia was nearing its final curtain. “Is there
anything bolder than a meadow of spring wildflowers?” Randi’s Mom opined. “That
mixture of symmetry and chaos was worthy of Monet’s palette, a bouquet of
perfect petals all wedded to the whimsical nature of wind, birds, and bees.”
The last year for 46-year-old
Randi had been a blizzard of hospital visits, endless discussions with doctors,
and the agonizingly slow descent of her mother's health. The storm had passed
late last fall, and all that remained was the quiet, lingering sorrow.
Randi had struggled
with what to do with her mother's ashes. She considered burying them in the park,
scattering some in each of the Great Lakes, or keeping them in a decorative
urn.
Her fingers traced the
smooth, cool surface of the walnut box containing her mother’s cremains. Randi
had also mixed some of the cremation ash into the lawn outside her home. Her Mom,
the woman who had always been her rock, her confidante, her everything, would
always be nearby.
As she sat outside on this warm spring morning, enjoying
her favorite coffee on the patio, she noticed tiny fragments of color emerging
from the grass where she’d scattered her mother’s ashes. Over the next weeks,
what appeared first as delicate blooms amid an expanse of green lifted
courageously like random bursts of golden sunlight - fiery oranges, vibrant
yellows, and hints of red.
“In the Victorian Flower Oracle, Calendula (Marigolds)
represent sympathy... marking the death of a sweet soul. When the ‘Wheel of
Life’ turns, we often need support from people who understand that even with
faith, sadness lingers. The Marigold offers the light of hope for those left
behind – there is no end, just a new season for the soul.”
Victorians (those who lived during the Victorian era from
1837 to 1901) were highly creative. The language of flowers became a way of
sending messages in subtle, discreet ways. They began publishing “flower
dictionaries” that explained the correlation between plants and their meanings.
This language of flowers soon earned the term floriography.
For example, roses became a symbol of love, violets meant
modesty, lilies of the valley symbolized trustworthiness, and poppies represented
sleep. A lone flower often symbolized pure innocence.
Randi’s Mom had sent her a coded message from beyond, perhaps
the poetic equivalent of “Stop and smell the roses!” without speaking a word. This
centuries-old symbolic language suggested she be patient as she healed and
consider more deeply that which is small, delicate, and beautiful.
Father God, thank You for the healing power
of flowers. Help us to find comfort in their vibrant colors and fragrant
scents, and remember the joy we shared. We adore You for this gentle reminder
of Your love and peace." Amen
