Changing the Question

It takes a bit of energy to go all over town on my rose game days. Yesterday I was SO thirsty. I kept thinking I should stop at a drive-thru or something. But once I get another address going in my GPS, I'd rather just move on to the next house.

Jill* was next. She and I talked for a while on her front porch. Then she got chilly and invited me in. She was thoughtful and contemplative as she shared some of her struggles and experiences. She spoke openly of God. When I'm out delivering roses, I'm never the first one to mention spiritual matters, but for some reason it comes up a lot.

Jill told me of a couple instances when she was miraculously healed. Those and other experiences led her to have strong faith in God. So for years she asked him to heal her depression. "You have healed me before. Why won't you heal me of this?"

Then one day it occurred to her that she might be asking the wrong question. Now, when she prays, she simply says, "What do you want me to learn from this?"

She still struggles. It doesn't look like her problems will be solved anytime soon. "But at least," she says, "I know what questions to ask."

As I walked to my car to deliver the next rose to Jill's friend, she poked her head back out her front door. "Would you like a water bottle for the road?" Gratefully, I accepted.

*She gave me permission to post her story if I changed her name.

My Assistant

What a treat to take my daughter on deliveries today. The first 8 roses went among her friends. I tried to stay in the background.

The rose isn't that important

I was sent to deliver a rose to Margo. It turns out she didn't need the rose. She needed me.

Her sweet old mother let me in, and I found Margo running around her kitchen. Platters of eye-pleasing food cluttered the counters. “I need help, and I literally didn't have time to call anyone.” I put the flower down and said, “I’m here.” While she frantically cut vegetables and directed her mother to get parsley from the garden, I rolled balls of fragrant gingersnap dough in brown raw sugar, two at a time, and filled the cookie sheets.

I couldn't quite catch all that she was saying…something about a teacher appreciation social (maybe?) at the elementary school behind her house.

Margo loaded her car with all the deliciousness and off she went while I stayed behind to wait for the cookies to cool.

The whole experience reminded me of something my good friend Kathy G. taught me. Sometimes when we want to visit a friend, for whatever reason, we think we need to come with a loaf of bread or a plate of cookies... or a rose. But maybe all that friend needs is us.