The Warrior Daddy brought home that beautiful pink orchid on our special day. I'm sure I rolled my eyes before I even stopped to think. I know he caught my disdain.
Work had delayed him a few too many minutes that evening. Considering it was our special day, he should have arrived to a beautifully displayed table of food, children bathed and ready for bed, a showered, out-of-workout clothes wife.
I'm sure he wanted to roll his eyes.
He embarked upon five stubborn, independent souls traveling in five different directions; each with a story to tell him right NOW!...
...and in the multitude of my anxiety within me, I failed to let His comfort delight my soul (Ps.94:19).
Instead I saw that orchid as another uninvited challenge.
I am good at displaying God's beauty each summer in our garden. It's really not all that difficult. Plant flowers, pull weeds, water regularly, and pray for God's tender mercy rain. Over the years, the oranges, reds, yellows, pinks, whites, purples have blended perfectly.
Inside plants are a different story. A perfectionist sticks to the easy plants, after she's failed one too many times with the others. The forgiving plants that don't demand schedule, and daily attention.
So, after a good night's rest and a sound apology to the Warrior Daddy, I determined to try to keep that beautiful orchid alive.
Because, figuratively, I live with five orchids, not five cacti.
Five who need just the right amount of sun and shade. Five who need to have regular nourishment, and a little extra when their soil grows dry. Three who are addicts of schedule, and deep proprioceptive pressure, and constant direction. Two who crave space, small spurts of refreshment, and sponteneity.
Five who need parakupto attention.
The Warrior Daddy is wise. He gave me a plant to remind me of my worth, my special calling from my Savior. Taking care of His family is no small, easy task. Taking care of His family is the hardship and beauty of my life. This is my story, my beautifully written redemption story.
The grace kiss is, it came with instructions carefully wrapped around one of its limbs.
And the Warrior Daddy brought home another gift too.
Both reminders of those faded, worn index cards taped inside my pantry cabinet. His instruction, handwritten from His Word, His taking care of me.
"Your word is a lamp to my feet
and a light to my path." Psalm 119:105
