Few things lift my spirits more than having fresh flowers in the house. I’m blessed to have rosebushes that give and give without counting the cost, so for a good part of the year, I get to enjoy beauties like these.
The other day, though, I was surveying my rosebushes, and the pickings were pretty slim. The pink ones were between blooms, and many of the white ones were rendered undisplay-able due to pest damage ( I curse you, thrips! shaking of fist). I’d be waiting a few days, it seemed, for my fresh flower fix.
And then I thought of the lavender bush in the front flowerbed. It’s been there for a few years, but this spring, I swear it seems to have doubled in size. ( It’s like the phenomenon that happens all the time to high school teachers: you run into the junior who was in your class as a tiny freshman, and he’s suddenly towering over you like an NBA player.) I looked at the lavender, with its purply gray-green lushness, and thought: You’re coming into the house with me.
Dodging the fat black bumblebees, I snipped several stalks. Once I was done I put it all in a little green vase on my prayer table, and I can’t tell you how happy that little bouquet makes me. As I sit here and read or write or meditate, I pause periodically to rub the flowers, and I drink in one of the most intoxicating scents God ever created.
It’s a very good pairing, lavender and prayer. I’m glad I had a reason to try it.