Sandra
felt as low as the heels of her winter boots as she pushed against a November
gust and the florist shop door. Her life had been easy, like a spring breeze.
Then, in the fourth month of her second pregnancy, a minor automobile accident
stole her ease. During this Thanksgiving week she would have delivered a son.
She grieved over her loss. As if that weren't enough, her husband's company
threatened a transfer. Then, her sister, whose holiday visit she looked forward
to, called saying she could not come.
What's worse, Sandra's friend infuriated her by suggesting her grief was a
God-given path to maturity that would allow her to empathize with others who
suffer. Had she lost a child? No, she has no idea what I'm feeling.
Sandra shuddered. Thanksgiving? Thankful for what? she wondered. For a careless
driver whose truck was hardly scratched when he rear- ended her? For an airbag
that saved her life but took that of her child?
"Good afternoon, can I help you?" The flower shop clerk's approach
startled her. "Sorry," said Jenny, "I just didn't want you to
think I was ignoring you."
"I... I need an arrangement."
"For Thanksgiving?"
Sandra nodded.
"Do you want beautiful but ordinary or would you like to challenge the day
with a customer favorite I call the Thanksgiving Special?" The florist saw
Sandra's curiosity and continued. "I'm convinced that flowers tell stories,
that each arrangement insinuates a particular feeling. Are you looking for
something that conveys gratitude this Thanksgiving?"
"Not exactly!" Sandra blurted. "Sorry, but, in the last five
months, everything that could go wrong has." Sandra regretted her outburst
but was surprised when Jenny said, "I have the perfect arrangement for
you."
Suddenly, the shop's doorbell rang. "Barbara! Hi," Jenny said to the
lady who had entered the shop. She politely excused herself from Sandra and
walked toward a small workroom. She quickly reappeared carrying a massive
arrangement of greenery, bows, and long-stemmed thorny roses. Curiously,
the ends of the rose stems were neatly snipped, no flowers!
"Want this in a box?" Jenny asked.
Sandra watched for the customer's response. Was this a joke? Who would want rose
stems and no flowers? She waited for laughter, for someone to notice
the absence of flowers atop the thorny stems, but neither woman did.
"Yes, please. It's exquisite," said Barbara. "You'd think, after
three years of getting the special, I'd not be so moved by its significance, but
it's happening again. My family will love this one. Thanks."
Sandra stared. Why so normal a conversation about so strange an arrangement? she
wondered.
"Ah," said Sandra, pointing. "That lady just left with,
ah....."
"Yes?"
"Well, she had no flowers!"
"Right, I cut off the flowers."
"Off?"
"Off. Yep. That's the Special. I call it the Thanksgiving Thorns
Bouquet."
"But, why do people pay for that?" In spite of herself she chuckled.
"Do you really want to know?"
"I couldn't leave this shop without knowing. I'd think about nothing
else!"
"That might be good," Jenny grinned.
"Well," she continued, "Barbara came into the shop three years
ago feeling very much like you feel today. She thought she had very little for
which to be thankful. She had lost her father to cancer, the family business was
failing, her son was into drugs, and she faced major surgery."
"Ouch!" said Sandra.
"That same year, I lost my husband. I assumed complete responsibility for
the shop and, for the first time, spent the holidays alone. I had no children,
no husband, no family nearby, and too great a debt to allow any travel."
"What did you do?"
"I learned to be thankful for thorns."
Sandra's eyebrows lifted. "Thorns?"
"I'm a Christian, Sandra. I've always thanked God for the good things in
life, and I never thought to ask Him why good things happened to me? But, when
the bad times came along, did I ever ask! It took time to learn that dark times
are important. I always enjoyed the 'flowers' of life, but it took thorns to
show me the beauty of God's comfort. You know, the Bible says that God
comforts us when we're afflicted and from His consolation we learn to comfort
others."
Sandra gasped. "A friend read that passage to me and I was furious! I guess
the truth is I don't want comfort. I've lost a baby and I'm angry with
God." She started to ask Jenny to "go on" when the door's bell
diverted their attention once again.
"Hey, Phil!" shouted Jenny as a middle-aged, rotund man entered the
shop. She softly touched Sandra's arm and moved to welcome him. He gently tucked
Jenny under his side for a warm hug.
"I'm here for twelve thorny long-stemmed stems!" Phil laughed
heartily.
"I figured as much," said Jenny. "I've got them ready." She
lifted a tissue-wrapped arrangement from the refrigerated cabinet.
"Beautiful," said Phil. "My wife will love them."
Sandra could not resist asking. "These are for your wife?"
Phil saw that Sandra's curiosity matched his when he first heard of a Thorn
Bouquet.
"Do you mind me asking, Why thorns?"
"In fact, I'm glad you asked," he said. "Four years ago my wife
and I nearly divorced. After forty years, we were in a real mess, but we slogged
through, problem after rotten problem. We rescued our marriage -- our love,
really.
Last year at Thanksgiving, I stopped in here for flowers. I must have mentioned
surviving a tough process because Jenny told me that for a long time she kept a
vase of rose stems -- stems! -- as a reminder of what she learned from 'thorny'
times. That was good enough for me. I took home stems.
My wife and I decided to label each one for a specific thorny situation and give
thanks for what the problem taught us. I'm pretty sure this stem review is
becoming a tradition."
Phil paid Jenny, thanked her again, and, as he left, turned to Sandra, "I
highly recommend the Special!"
"I don't know if I can be thankful for the thorns in my life," Sandra
said as she turned to Jenny.
"Well, my experience says that thorns make roses more precious. We treasure
God's providential care more during times of trouble than at any other time.
Remember, Sandra, Jesus wore a crown of thorns so that we might know His love.
Do not resent thorns."
Tears rolled down Sandra's cheeks. For the first time since the accident she
loosened her grip on resentment. "I'll take twelve long-stemmed thorns,
please."
"I hoped you would," Jenny smiled. "I'll have them ready in a
minute. Then, every time you see them, remember to appreciate both the good and
hard times. We grow through both."
"Thank you. What do I owe you?"
"Nothing! Nothing but a pledge to work toward healing your heart. The first
year's arrangement is always on me."
Jenny handed a card to Sandra. "I'll attach a card like this to your
arrangement but maybe you'd like to read it first. Go ahead, read it."
"My
God, I have never thanked Thee for my thorns!
I have thanked Thee a thousand times for my roses,
but never once for my thorns.
Teach me the glory of the cross I bear,
teach me the value of my thorns.
Show me that I have climbed to Thee by the path of pain.
Show me that my tears have made my rainbow."
By George Matheson
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"Happy
Thanksgiving, Sandra," said Jenny, handing her the Special. I look forward
to our knowing each other better."
Sandra smiled. She turned, opened the door, and walked toward hope.
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