To all of the wallflowers
It was the simplest example I’d ever seen. Standing by the newly-tilled bed, hose in hand, I was performing a precious ritual–the watering of the flowers. Oh, the ineffable holiness of small things.
At once, my gaze lit upon one shy, full bloom. Its face was turned away, pressed tightly against a red wall. “A wallflower,” I thought, “in living color!”
All around it, a row of happy, yellow faces nodded and bobbed beneath the life-giving spray. All of them save the one.
I thought, then, of the human kind. Those shy, fragile souls living their lives with faces pressed into a wall. In a crowded room, in the marketplace, in a sanctuary of the once-sinning saved, they feel alone.
All around them, throngs of bright, happy faces smile and bob. The life-giving spray’s raining down and down, and the flower on the wall’s turned away.
To all of the wallflowers. May you know just how special you are. How much color you add to the world.
May you find the courage to turn your head, to show your sweet face. To be seen and known and embraced.
Above all of everything at all times and in all ways, may you know how much you are loved. Always.