I have lived in Florida longer than any other place. I did not grow up here, but I was born here and I carry with me that thin Florida blood that makes me freeze when it gets below seventy. I am a Floridian.
And like any Floridian, I expect rain to last approximately ten minutes and then clear up. I don't own an umbrella.
And when the rain lasts all afternoon and presumably most of the night and the morning begins with gray skies and no promise of sun, like any Floridian, I get a little anxious. Floridians need sun.
The day did not get any better. It's morning and already I've had to cancel an appointment with the doctor because my smoke alarms decided to announce the beginning of World War III. Once the wailing began, I fled outside only to realize that the smoke alarms weren't going to just burn themselves out so to speak.
So I went back inside, did some incredibly stupid things, and managed to get all four of them to stop shrieking for the time being.
But before any of this happened, I drove to church and I took pictures.
Dewdrops on flowers make a pretty picture, but when it rains and rains and rains, soon the flowers are weighed down with more than they can bear. They droop and sag. They fall. They curl. They look ready to throw up their arms in surrender.
But here among these flowers, I found something so beautiful. This flower with its petals completely fanned out had given up, but what it revealed inside was something so much more beautiful. I'm not an expert on flower anatomy. I can only tell you what I see and hope you see it too.
It's as if this flower opened itself and revealed its heart and its heart turned out to be a field of even smaller flowers. And these flowers were strong and stood tall and bright against the gray sky.
I wish it was a lesson I could take to my own heart, that the stuff that seems to weigh us down, is only trying to reveal something beautiful.
And like any Floridian, I expect rain to last approximately ten minutes and then clear up. I don't own an umbrella.
And when the rain lasts all afternoon and presumably most of the night and the morning begins with gray skies and no promise of sun, like any Floridian, I get a little anxious. Floridians need sun.
The day did not get any better. It's morning and already I've had to cancel an appointment with the doctor because my smoke alarms decided to announce the beginning of World War III. Once the wailing began, I fled outside only to realize that the smoke alarms weren't going to just burn themselves out so to speak.
So I went back inside, did some incredibly stupid things, and managed to get all four of them to stop shrieking for the time being.
But before any of this happened, I drove to church and I took pictures.
Dewdrops on flowers make a pretty picture, but when it rains and rains and rains, soon the flowers are weighed down with more than they can bear. They droop and sag. They fall. They curl. They look ready to throw up their arms in surrender.
But here among these flowers, I found something so beautiful. This flower with its petals completely fanned out had given up, but what it revealed inside was something so much more beautiful. I'm not an expert on flower anatomy. I can only tell you what I see and hope you see it too.
It's as if this flower opened itself and revealed its heart and its heart turned out to be a field of even smaller flowers. And these flowers were strong and stood tall and bright against the gray sky.
I wish it was a lesson I could take to my own heart, that the stuff that seems to weigh us down, is only trying to reveal something beautiful.
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