The Season of Singing

Savannah, Georgia

Spring 2004

Song of Solomon 2:12 NIV

"Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come, the cooing of doves is heard in our land."

I have no skills with flowers. Years ago, after I raised a batch of healthy weeds outside my house in Kentucky instead of the flowers I had carefully planted,  I made a promise to plants and flowers: I will leave you alone and let you live if you stay away from me.

This arrangement has worked well until kind-hearted people have given me plants through the years. Let's just say I managed to kill a cactus, and from what I understand, that is fairly hard to do.

However, I have always loved flowers and deeply admire people who can grow them and keep plants in and around their houses.

My love of flowers began as a child with the field behind our house, which was filled with wild flowers. I'd pick my mom Queen Anne's Lace and Morning Glories and every other kind of wild flower I could find in the field.

I loved to romp through the paths of that field before it was subdivided and became backyards of homes.  When we moved into the neighborhood, it was all mine to explore.

As more neighbors moved into the subdivisions, and as I had to walk by the homes of talented gardeners on my way to elementary school, mom's flowers were elevated from wildflowers to tulips or roses I spotted growing in a stranger's flower bed. 

At five years old, I didn't quite understand the concept of theft of property, all I was focusing on was gifting my mom with beautiful flowers. The neighbors just happened to be the providers of the rainbow-colored flowers I brought home.

Sadly, one day I picked flowers too close to home.  I found them in the next door neighbor's garden.  She was not happy with "Little Lori" and my mom and dad got an angry call from her about my behavior.

I had to go next door and apologize to her for picking her flowers. At the same time, I have to admit I was eyeballing her flowers as I walked to her front door, figuring out which ones mom would like the next time I picked some. 

I think the apology ended my life of crime as a five year-old flower picker.  Mom's flowers were wildflowers again, and unfortunately, I never figured out how to grow my own garden.

Thankfully, florists can deliver, so mom still gets her flowers from me throughout the year.  I wish I could send them to her every day. She deserves them, but I can't.

Spring will be here in a couple months.  I love seeing the flowers as they make their own rainbow on God's world. They bring such color and hope with them. The season of singing does seem to begin with spring.

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Lord, thank you for the colorful flowers you give us to brighten our lives.