Today, on Easter Sunday, my children went out and picked me a bunch of "flowers" out of our yard. They were lovingly bunched together and presented with happy hearts, precious smiles, and loving hearts. They had worked hard to scour our yard for these weeds because my husband does his best to prevent them from growing and being an unsightly mess.
As I helped the kids pick out a vase, fill it with water, and place the arrangement ever so carefully into the vase, it got me to thinking about the number of times I did this for my Mother when I was their age. My brothers and I would pick "flowers" that were growing in a field owned by a local resident which was close to our home. Never once did she say that we'd bestowed upon her a bunch of weeds that would make her eyes water, her nose run, and cause sneezing fits so frequent she'd require an antihistamine. No, not once. She lovingly accepted them and never brought up their past.
It occurred to me on this holiest of holy days, these "flowers" were not dissimilar from me. I am that weed which is now a flower. There were many things that I have done in my life which could be held against me but someone came along who saw me for my inner beauty. Someone who could see what others discarded as being undesirable. That person was Jesus. He saw through my prickly points and my undesirable characteristics and spoke to my heart. He picked me before something came along which would prevent me from blooming. Just like the "flowers" my children picked for me today, my beginnings have been forgotten. While my life before Him was that of an undesirable weed, because of His love I am now a bouquet.
by: Christie Bielss
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