I fill my basket.
Bananas.
Apples.
Blueberries.
Crusty breads on sale–country wheat baguette, pan bigio, calabrese rounds.
Kalamata olives.
Diapers, wipes, vinyl bibs.
A fleece jacket for Gracee–on sale for three dollars.
And I remember what Cassandra said in response to my pity party on Wednesday.
Bring in beauty right where you are. Right now. In the middle of the messiness. Just bring it in. Don’t wait for a moment when there is time.
When you go to the grocery store, buy some inexpensive cheery flowers. At home, put them in a vase where you wash the dishes or sit often. Make a little cleared space around the vase. Tomorrow, write about the flowers, and why you like them. What do they make you think of?
Every morning, spend a few minutes just gazing at the flowers. Let their beauty charge your creative soul.
And so I weave my way back to the flower area. (I breezed right past it when I came in.) I wrinkle my nose at the sad bouquets on display. But then the heady fragrance of hyacinth beckons, tucked between towering yellow daffodils and jonquils and pots of tulips.
I bring a pot home and set it on the end table next to the sofa.
I pour a cup of flowering tea (thanks, Sissy.)
And. I. Sit.
I gaze out the window.
The sky is clear. The sun is bright.
The wind whips and whistles around the house.
Branches brush the siding.
Dried brown leaves play tag.
Three purple finches, a titmouse, and a chickadee cling to the feeder, crazy swaying.
I hold the pot of flowers in my lap and study them.
I consider the spikes of sunshine-studded snow-white stars. I read somewhere that hyacinths are associated with rebirth.
Tall green arms embrace infant blooms, tight, soon to be born.
I hold the flowers close and inhale and get a bit dizzy.
High on hyacinth.
I stroke blossoms, cool, rubbery. Sturdy yet fragile.
And my hands carry the fragrance.
Hebrew kings were “crowned” with very expensive perfumed oil.
Everything and everyone with that unique fragrance was recognized as belonging to God in a special way.
In the ancient Middle East, the majesty of a king was expressed not only by what he wore–his jewelry and robes–but by his royal “aroma.” Even after a king was first anointed, he would perfume his robes with precious oils for special occasions . . .
During royal processions, the fragrance of expensive oils would inform the crowds that a king was passing by. . . (Sitting at the Feet of Rabbi Jesus~p. 16-18)
The scent of the perfume with which Mary anointed Jesus must have clung to him for days. Everywhere he went he “had the fragrance of royalty. Jesus smelled like a king.”
When He entered Jerusalem, in the garden, during his trial, during His stripping and whipping, and when He was nailed to the cross, His fragrance must have permeated the air. Perhaps it even clung to His enemies.
I sniff my hands again, savoring the scent.
I want to carry His fragrance.
High on Him.
Praying you catch His scent this weekend. And that it clings to you as well.
In the Messiah, in Christ, God leads us from place to place in one perpetual victory parade. Through us, he brings knowledge of Christ. Everywhere we go, people breathe in the exquisite fragrance. Because of Christ, we give off a sweet scent rising to God, which is recognized by those on the way of salvation—an aroma redolent with life. But those on the way to destruction treat us more like the stench from a rotting corpse. ~2 Corinthians 2:14-16
This is like a wonderful present to me. I was right there with you, smelling and feeling and basking in it all.
Isn’t beauty wonderful?
Ahh, and your clearest writing voice is back, full and strong.
Smiling.. . Yes, I am smiling right here at my laptop.
You make me smile, too. Thanks for helping to raise me from my funk–and for being my friend. No, sister. 🙂
the sweet scent
nice
🙂
Beautiful, soul-stirringly sensuous–a perfect reminder, perfectly written. Thank you.
Hi, my friend. Thank *you.*
you share the fragrance in a most becoming way …
I was going to say the same for you, Susan.
To be still and know …
I have that verse on a plaque in my living room as an ever-present reminder to remember Whose fragrance I want to carry.
Pretty pictures, too, Sandra!
You carry that fragrance well, my cross-eyed friend.
Thank you Sandra, for this portrait of beauty today. I love to talk and dream of the subject of smell since I have never had any sense of smell, but I almost felt as if I did when I read this….Lori
Oh, Lori. What a blessing you’ve given me. Hugs.
I LOVE the scent of hyacinths! Lilacs aren’t far behind. In fact, I bought hand cream with a lilac fragrance.
I’m with you on the lilacs. I think they top hyacinths.
For some reason I can’t view the pictures BUT I love this post!
I want to carry His fragrance everywhere I go.
Well, that’s just strange. They all seem to be broken. Working on it.
Two things come to mind, the girls’ bathroom and Valentine’s flowers.
Peter gave me beautiful cut flowers for Valentine’s Day. Gorgeous snap dragons and lilies and green poms/mums, carnations, etc. At first they smelled great. Then they started stinking. I changed the water, recut them and moved them from the Dining Room to my dresser in the bedroom. The next morning I commented about how much they still stunk. Peter was relieved. He feared it was my breath. True story! 🙂
On a more edifying note, the main bathroom is decorated with pink fru fru. The shower curtain has images of perfume bottles, high heeled shoes and dusting powder boxes, complete with actual feathers. Once we paint the bathroom, I want to stencil, “We are the fragrance of Christ” around the mirror.
That is TOO funny! I hate that “been in the water too long” smell.
And your bathroom sounds awesome. I may have to steal that idea. 😉
Loved this, sweetie! This must a theme. I just now posted (or rather re-posted from last year) the same topic for a blog carnival. I love it when the Lord reinforces a precious thought like this. I always love reading your precious thoughts! 😀
I think I remember this one. Heading over to check it out. 🙂
A stunning post. Honestly these days, I don’t smell so well and your post was a great encouragement to me — and those around me