There it was, smiling its way into my heart. Rising, not out of the well-tilled and well-watered earth, but out of a crack in the blacktop beside the road. Not one brave, lonely little flower, but a riot of color and blossoms, reaching for the sky, stretching out to bless the passing traveler.
Not ashamed that it was too small to be noticed by the cars whizzing up the hill; almost too humble to even draw the foot traveler over for a closer look. Not held back by the fact that it is fall, and its life will surely be cut short by the forces of nature. Not discouraged that its roots will never grow deep and strong in this precarious location, so it will never be all it could be.
Willing to lift is trusting face to heaven in praise and worship to its Maker with all its heart and soul. Whether or not anyone notices. Whether the rains come tomorrow and wash it away. Whether they don’t. Whether someone tramples on it because it was in the way and they were in a hurry. Willing to bloom where it was planted by the mercy of God just in case one of His erring children might pass by, and seeing the flower, think of Him and draw a little bit closer. Might look up in faith and also praise and thank the Maker. Might strive to be just a little bit kinder, a little bit truer, a little bit more forgiving.
Lord, make my life like this little flower. May I point travelers to You, unmindful of whether or not they see me or thank me or even trample on me. May I serve wholeheartedly, as an act of worship, looking only to You for my reward. May I not seek a larger audience, richer soil in which to grow, or better surroundings. Lord, may I bloom where You have planted me, in this season in which You have planted me, knowing that there are so many who still do not know You, and knowing that winter is coming, and the time to bloom will soon be over.