Sunday Meditation 32
It was my wife’s birthday this week. I sent her flowers. Where she works. She says she was surprised. I hope so.
Here’s how the florist described the arrangement: “Beautiful blooms such as blue hydrangea, crème roses, white lilies and alstroemeria along with yellow and white chrysanthemums, eucalyptus, limonium and more are beautifully arranged in a dazzling cobalt blue vase.”
I don’t even understand what most of that means, though I did get a few words: Blue, white, and yellow. (Those are colors, right?)
Let’s move on . . .
Sending Jo-Lynn flowers was no great shakes. That’s what people do for people they love. Except I never really understood the idea of killing something beautiful in nature to show somebody else that you love them. Nope. No entiendo. Je ne comprends pas. Ich verstehe nicht.
No matter. Over the past 41 years of marriage — yes, we’ve been married that long — I’ve come to understand that my wife (partner, companion, friend, lover, mother of my children) liked flowers. I had two choices: Ignore the obvious or embrace it. Guess what I did . . .
Is there a life lesson here? Maybe, “Yes.” Maybe, “No.”
In addition to celebrating her birthday with flowers, my wife and I went out for dinner and a movie: “Florence Foster Jenkins,” starring Meryl Streep. Heartbreaker of a film. Go see it. Streep is bound to be nominated for another Oscar.
Why do I mention the movie?
Because I picked it, though it’s not the kind of flick I’d typically go see. Guess who I thought might like it? Yup. My Honey Pie. And the restaurant? Has a nice prime rib. Her favorite. (Me? I had burger and fries. Yes, I’m “That guy.”)
This little write-up may not sound profound. Or lovey-dovey. Or squishy-wishy. But, hey. It’s practical. When we first got married, my wife and I were two little fishies swimming in the same sea, but each singin’ our own song and dreamin’ our own dream. Now? We’re like a seasoned pair of dancers, anticipating each other’s move. Or a top-rate QB-WR combo, like Ben Roethlisberger and Antonio Brown. (“Go Steelers!”)
One more thing. (There’s always one more thing with me, isn’t there?) We had Ecclesiastes 4:9–12 read out loud at our wedding:
“Two are better than one; because they have a good reward for their labour.
For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow: but woe to him that is alone when he falleth; for he hath not another to help him up.
Again, if two lie together, then they have heat: but how can one be warm alone?
And if one prevail against him, two shall withstand him; and a threefold cord is not quickly broken.”
Did that make a difference?
You tell me . . .
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