The Brown Flower

Somewhere in the middle of my 75-hour work week, I received the tragic news that a cousin my age passed away unexpectedly while visiting her sister in Africa.  She had lived her life confined by physical limitations, but she left the world while on an adventure.

Although her life was cut short, that is the way I would like to die.  My mind goes back to an earlier moment in the week.

I stepped onto the H elevator at Elkhart General, in a typical frenzied rush up to the sixth floor where many of our heart patients recover from surgery before going home.

In the elevator with me was one of our faithful patient transporters dressed in maroon, pushing an empty patient transport chair.  In a slot at the back of the chair was a single stemmed fall flower.  It looked a little like golden rod, although it was brown.

“Good morning, Katrina, how are you?” the transporter asked, cheerful as always.

Like many of the maroon-dressed transporters, this lady tours the hospital, taking patient to their X-rays and stress tests hour after hour through the day.  She has such a wonderful servant heart!  I meet her multiple times, and she always has a smile and a cheery comment, calling me by name.  (My confession?  I called her the wrong name for about two months.  When someone finally told me that her name is not Carolyn, I was too embarrassed to mention it to her.  My sincerest apologies to you, my friend, if you read my blog.)

“Good,” I said, “how are you?”  But my eyes caught on the flower behind the chair.

“See my flower?”  she asked.  “I found it in a wastebasket downstairs! I know these flowers dry really well.”

She was so pleased with her find.

In a second the elevator spit us off on the sixth floor, and we both went about our business.

But I couldn’t forget the brown flower.

How like resurrection, to be picked from the darkness “downstairs” and be lifted up to a place of safety and beauty!  How like the servant heart of Jesus, to rescue things from wastebaskets!  And how like all of us, to need to be found by Him in order to reach our fullest potential!

Behold my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen, in whom my soul delights; I have put my Spirit upon him…a bruised reed he will not break, and a faintly burning wick he will not quench…he will not grow faint or be discouraged… (Isaiah 42: 1-4)

Except that verse isn’t actually talking about reeds and wicks…it’s talking about people.   Because we’ve all been bruised or nearly smothered, or thrown into a wastebasket, both because of our own sin, and because of the sins of others…Or we simply deal with the effects of a broken world, like my cousin who lived for more than 30 years in a body handicapped by things her doctors could not fix.

…As in Adam ALL die!

We are all in need of a hand to pluck us out…

…Even so in Christ shall ALL be made alive!

I’m so glad that God knew exactly how to fix the problem of our badness and our brokenness, and that Jesus was willing to give his life to make that plan work. I’m glad that he can pick us out, and instantly know, even in the setting of a wastebasket, exactly what beauty we could be restored to (These flowers dry so well! she said).   And I’m really glad that we can see glimpses of the heart of Jesus, day by day, in the people around us.

And I’m glad, that in the end, we can leave the world of wastebaskets forever.  Despite the tragedy, I’m so glad that my cousin could step out of Africa and straight into the arms of this Savior, to be made truly alive, restored to her full potential, which only her Maker could know.

Now unto him who is able to keep us from falling, and to present us faultless before his presence with exceeding joy, to the only wise God our Savior, be glory and majesty, dominion and power, both now and forever, Amen.