Beauty

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Before we visited the orchards in Hood River, I never could really imagine the Garden of Eden.  Now, at last, I can.

There were rows upon rows of every fruit tree/bush/vine you could imagine.  Think fifty shades of green, dotted with bright bursts of warm colors.  The kids raced each other in who could pick the most strawberries, while Chris and I wandered Walk-in-the-Clouds-like through the grape vines.
Then, with sheers in hand, we tromped through the flower beds to cut the perfect bouquet.
Days later, our house still smells of peony blossoms – like bath powder and pink cheeks.

And, then the thought struck me:

Do you think flowers know that they’re beautiful?

Or do they have thoughts like…
I wish my stem was thinner.
My leaves are too flabby.
I never looked good in red.
I wish my buds were bigger.
My petals are so wrinkly.
If only I was taller.
The humidity doesn’t help.
Oh goodness, gravity.

It seems silly that they would even question their beauty.  Just as I have never seen a flower that I didn’t love.

Perhaps we should take a lesson from the flowers.

That beauty is being exactly who you were created to be.

In the form and shape you were given.

Growing roots and leaning towards the sun.

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