pink tulips

As I backed out of the driveway this morning, I suddenly thought about buying flowers for my boss. She's been grinding away at a project that imprisons her at the computer for hours at a time, looking at a dreary gray screen. So although I was running behind, I stopped at the supermarket.

Tiny daffodils. Hyacinths. Hydrangeas. Roses. Tulips. Hm. I don't really like tulips... but the buckets were jammed with color--purple, red, orange, yellow. The pink ones, though--they shouted "SPRING!"

I had time to arrange them and set them next to her keyboard before she came in. Returning from a meeting, I found her making the rounds trying to solve the mystery of the pink tulips, so I 'fessed up.

It wasn't until later that she said, "I need to tell you the story of the pink tulips. I don't think I've ever told you. The day I was born..." She had to pause because the tears surfaced. "The day I was born, my dad came to the hospital. Instead of bringing fresh flowers, he arrived with a bunch of pink plastic tulips! It was always a joke between my parents."

Her parents are both dead now, her mom for just over a year.

I am always amazed what happens when I listen to the small whispers inside. God is always speaking--to us and through us.

I will never see pink tulips the same way again.