It seems like every time I take a picture of a flower, the next day it's gone.
The hanging hibiscus ... gone.
Yesterday's butterfly haven ... vanished.
Even this close to autumn, the Florida sun is sometimes too much to bear.
Somehow, though, things that seem lost have a way of returning.
And so I don't mourn the dried, shriveled husks of yesterday's flowers, because I know that tomorrow will bring something new, maybe not in the same place, maybe not the same flower, but something beautiful will emerge somewhere else.
It is God's promise.
When the world was lost after the flood, a new world emerged.
When one petal on one flower dies, a new seed sprouts somewhere else.
We live in a world where heartbreak and disappointment follow us into the night.
But we also live in a world where new life waits for us in the morning.
The hanging hibiscus ... gone.
Yesterday's butterfly haven ... vanished.
Even this close to autumn, the Florida sun is sometimes too much to bear.
Somehow, though, things that seem lost have a way of returning.
And so I don't mourn the dried, shriveled husks of yesterday's flowers, because I know that tomorrow will bring something new, maybe not in the same place, maybe not the same flower, but something beautiful will emerge somewhere else.
It is God's promise.
When the world was lost after the flood, a new world emerged.
When one petal on one flower dies, a new seed sprouts somewhere else.
We live in a world where heartbreak and disappointment follow us into the night.
But we also live in a world where new life waits for us in the morning.
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