On the Eve of Valentines I Remember.....

My Shop's Signature Bouquet    

Valentine's Day used to make me tremble. You see, I once owned a flower shop, and it has taken years to get over the nightmares. Only in the last few years have I been able to walk through a store with red roses on display. The sixteen hour days, standing ankle deep in cut stems and floral debris, still haunt my dreams occasionally.

The worst nightmare was being in a wreck on the way to delivering  funeral or wedding arrangements. The nightmare happened, twice. Once on the way to a wedding, but thankfully it was only a minor accident and not a single arrangement toppled over. The one on Valentine's Day however, totaled my truck.  Oh those were the days....

There were however, happy moments, moments that I will remember the rest of my life.  A grieving family so touched by the floral arrangements they hugged me. The last minute bridal bouquet and boutonniere for a couple marrying in her mother's hospital room. Delivering bouquets to work places for anniversaries, birthdays, and holidays. I loved seeing the recipient's faces, both men and women. One year on Valentine's day, my oldest son offered to deliver for me. He arrived in a suit. I received multiple phone calls asking if they ordered more flowers, would he come back?

At the time he was "moonlighting" as a sheriff's deputy when he wasn't delivering for me. I am one lucky mom, right? Yes, all the ladies thought so.

Posadas

Photo: OZphotography@FreeDitgitalPhotos.net                    

During this season of Advent there are many scriptural references to the blind seeing, the lame walking, and the poor feasting. It’s a beautiful, comforting image, for who among us has not suffered? Even those born of privilege suffer. They may not worry about food, clothing, and shelter as do the very poor, but they suffer in other ways.

When we lived in a wealthier area, people were polite, civil, but mostly cold. They didn’t go out of their way to say, hello, or even acknowledge my existence. I think they knew instinctively by my dress, my mannerism, or by some other secret code, that I wasn’t one of them.

Tending toward being an introvert, I didn’t much care. However, when we moved out further into an area with a bigger mix of economic strata, I experienced a radical change in the people around me. There were more smiles, hellos, and Good Afternoons. People I didn’t know chatted in the aisles, and helped load large items into my car.

One man actually chased my husband and me down in the parking lot of one of the garden centers.