Wildflower Poppies…

I found a beautiful bush with delicate flowers blooming along our road.  I could not resist them I had to stop and stare and marvel and smile at their ethereal loveliness.

I didn’t have my camera with me so unthinkingly I picked some and carefully carried them home.

On the way, a less than five minute walk, the petals began to fall, one by one.  I sheltered them from the breeze with my hand and hurried along.

I placed them in water, in a tiny, crystal vase, as soon as I arrived home and set them on my window sill for photographing.

More petals had succumbed to the shock of being wrenched from their branches, which I tenderly arranged artistically around the vase.

By the time I’d taken the picture most of the petals had dropped.


Their fragility reminded me of how helpless I am when I separate myself from the love of God.

These winsome flowers, so beautiful on their healthy bush, could not maintain their existence for even five minutes after being plucked from their life giving branches.  Yet on the bush they can withstand wind and rain.


Several days later the buds in the vase were still tightly closed.  I know I don’t have the power to reveal the beautiful, hidden flower trapped and unseen within its green jacket.

Similarly when I decide I want to try living without God, who is there to bring out the hidden fruit of my unique self?

I may appear to be managing on the outside.  But like the wildflower poppies I have lost the transparent beauty that only my Father in heaven can create.

There may be glimpses of a blossoming that quickly wilts. A waft of perfume that’s gone in a breath.

Only by the grace of God’s love will my gossamer glory unveil itself in its fragile strength and remain forever.

Wildflower Poppies will flourish, as they were created to, but only in the hands of God and on their bush.



Me too.



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