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. 

Cancer Schmancer

My cancer is nothin'. That's how I felt today as I delivered roses to a few women who are going through trials much greater than mine. It's a privilege for me to sit with a person in their home and hear a little about their life. In fact, it is an AMAZING privilege. Why don't we take the time to do it more often, I ask myself.

Marlene and I hit it off. Maybe it's because we both have yellow walls in our homes. She's an interior designer and a great-grandma. Her health won't permit her to go to church, or to many other places, for that matter. But she has a beautiful, warm, yellow living room where she goes to pray in the evenings. Lovely. I could have stayed in that room with her all day if I didn't need to get home to my kids returning from school.

Today my troubles were forgotten. And I made some new friends to boot!

Lesson Learned

I started out today gung-ho. When she heard about my rose game, my friend Sally from Kansas had requested via Facebook that I take a rose to her life-long mentor in Springville. From the way Sally lovingly described her I was excited to meet this angel of a woman. Unfortunately, she wasn't home. So I left the rose and a card with words of love from Sally.

As the day went on, my efforts seemed fruitless. No one was at home or at their office desk. I left a lot of flowers on doorsteps or with the receptionist. Was I wasting my time? My game didn't seem fun anymore.

I stopped early. I was tired and a little discouraged.

When I got home, there on my front porch was a bouquet of flowers. A friend had remembered that I started back on chemo today (after a short break) and wanted to let me know she was thinking of me. Oh sweet, sweet friend.

It was okay that I wasn't home to receive the flowers when she brought them. I still felt her love and my day was immensely brighter.

So maybe today's efforts weren't in vain after all.

Le jeu de rose à Paris?

Wouldn't it be awesome to try my rose game in Paris? That's what I thought before I left. But, really, how would I do that? I don't speak French. I couldn't zip around the city like I do in my car at home. Pretty impossible. Still, I prayed that I could figure it out somehow. For some reason it felt important to me.

Our first night in the City of Lights we dined with our Utah neighbor, who was also our flight attendant, and several of her Delta co-workers. It settled my traveling jitters to know that a couple of them spoke French and that they had all been here several times before. As we ate our delicious dinner, a man walked up to my husband to sell him a rose to give to me. Actually he tried to sell him several roses as David was seated with nine beautiful women. The ladies said, "Ah, buy your wife a rose!" So he did.

We parted ways with the Delta crew and found our way back to the metro station, with only a couple wrong turns.

On the subway I twirled my rose. At the next stop a little girl and her mother sat across from us. I smiled at the little girl. I twirled my rose. I looked at the little girl... and at my rose... *Ding!* I handed it to her. Yes, she was pleased as she smiled up at her mother. Her mother said, "Merci!" I ventured, "Je vous en prie." (I'd been practicing that one for a while--ask my family.)

The mother (Ellen) spoke English pretty well. We had a nice little conversation. She was really friendly. She and her daughter (Claudia) made me happy. Thank you, Heavenly Father, for giving me an opportunity to give away a rose!

Reconnections

One of the rewards of this venture is seeing people reconnect with old friends.

A few months ago I gave a rose to my neighbor Erika. She thought of a friend whom she hadn't seen in years but used to know well. Their children had grown up together. With a little sleuthing on the internet Erika tracked down Dorothy's address and sent me off to deliver my second rose.

Dorothy greeted me warmly, even before she knew who I was and what I was doing. When I explained that the rose I presented to her was from Erika, she lit up. She wanted to know all about how Erika and her family were doing. I was able to tell her about Erika's brand new granddaughter. Dorothy was thrilled!

Well, later Dorothy called Erika and their friendship was rekindled. Erika invited both me and Dorothy to her granddaughter's baby shower.

A big surprise came for me when Erika showed up at my house with a gift from Dorothy. It was a beautiful hand-knit prayer shawl accompanied by a thoughtful note. I cried with gratitude for both these lovely women.

When my husband saw the gift, he said, "Wow. All that for just a rose?"

Yes. Well said. Wow.

Yellow

I don't always choose a yellow bouquet, but I'm glad I did today. Carol was grateful to receive a yellow rose. Yellow roses are her favorite because they were her Aunt Dorothy's favorite. Aunt Dorothy didn't have any children, so when Carol was little she became Dorothy's "daughter."

One day when Carol was five she stood at a chain linked fence waiting for Aunt Dorothy's plane to return from Europe. But it never did. The pilot tried to take a shortcut and crashed into a mountain. Carol's mom told her Aunt Dorothy flew to heaven.

So Carol loves yellow roses. She chose them for her wedding bouquet. She puts them on her aunt's grave. Maybe, just maybe, Aunt Dorothy up in heaven was thinking of her "daughter" and made sure I picked the yellow ones and took one to Carol.