Thankful for the Thorns

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Thankful for the Thorns

Thankful for the Thorns:

Sandra felt as low as the heels of her Birkenstocks as she pushed against a
November gust and the florist shop door. Her life had been easy, like a
spring breeze. Then, in the fourth month of her second pregnancy, a minor
automobile accident stole her ease. During this Thanksgiving week she would
have delivered a son.

She grieved over her loss. As if that weren't enough, her husband's company
threatened a transfer. Then her sister, whose holiday visit she coveted,
called saying she could not come. What's worse, Sandra's friend infuriated
her by suggesting her grief was a God-given path to maturity that would
allow her to empathize with others who suffer. "Had she lost a child? No -
she has no idea what I'm feeling," Sandra shuddered. Thanksgiving? "Thankful
for what?" she wondered. For a careless driver whose truck was hardly
scratched when he rear-ended her? For an airbag that saved her life but took
that of her child?

"Good afternoon, can I help you?" The flower shop clerk's approach startled
her.

"Sorry," said Jenny, "I just didn't want you to think I was ignoring you."

"I . . . . I need an arrangement."

"For Thanksgiving?"

Sandra nodded.

"Do you want beautiful but ordinary, or would you like to challenge the day
with a customer favorite I call the "Thanksgiving Special?"

Jenny saw Sandra's curiosity and continued, "I'm convinced that flowers tell
stories, that each arrangement insinuates a particular feeling. Are you
looking for something that conveys gratitude this Thanksgiving?"

"Not exactly!" Sandra blurted. "Sorry, but in the last five months,
everything that could go wrong has."

Sandra regretted her outburst but was surprised when Jenny said, "I have
the perfect arrangement for you."

The door's small bell suddenly rang. "Barbara! Hi, "Jenny said. She politely
excused herself form Sandra and walked toward a small workroom. She quickly
reappeared carrying a massive arrangement of green bows, and long-stemmed
thorny roses. Only, the ends of the rose stems were neatly snipped, no
flowers. "Want this in a box?" Jenny asked.

Sandra watched for Barbara's response. Was this a joke? Who would want rose
stems and no flowers! She waited for laughter, for someone to notice the
absence of flowers atop the thorny stems, but neither woman did. "Yes,
please. It's exquisite," said Barbara. "You'd think after three years of
getting the special, I'd not be so moved by its significance, but it's
happening again. My family will love this one. Thanks."

Sandra stared. "Why so normal a conversation about so strange an
arrangement?" she wondered.

"Ah, said Sandra, pointing. "That lady just left with, ah . . . ." "

Yes?"

"Well, she had no flowers!"

"Yep. That's the Special. I call it the "Thanksgiving Thorns Bouquet."

"But, why do people pay for that?" In spite of herself she chuckled.

"Do you rally want to know?"

"I couldn't leave this shop without knowing. I'd think about nothing else!"

"That might be good," said Jenny. "Well," she continued, "Barbara came into
the shop three years ago feeling very much like you feel today. She thought
she had very little to be thankful for. She had lost her father to cancer,
the family business was failing, her son was into drugs, and she faced major
surgery." "

Ouch!" said Sandra.

"That same year, I lost my husband. I assumed complete responsibility for
the shop and for the first time, spent the holidays alone. I had no
children, no husband, no family nearby, and too great a debt to allow any
travel."

"What did you do?"

"I learned to be thankful for thorns."

Sandra's eyebrows lifted. "Thorns?"

"I'm a Christian, Sandra. I've always thanked God for good things in life
and I never thought to ask Him why good things happened to me. But, when
bad stuff hit. Did I ever ask! It took time to learn that dark times are
important. I always enjoyed the flowers of life but it took thorns to show
me the beauty of God's comfort. You know, the Bible says that God comforts
us when we're afflicted and from His consolation we learn to comfort
others."

Sandra gasped. "A friend read that passage to me and I was furious! I guess
the truth is, I don't want comfort. I've lost a baby and I'm angry with
God."

She started to ask Jenny to "go on" when the door's bell diverted their
attention.

"Hey, Phil!" shouted Jenny as a balding, rotund man entered the shop. She
softly touched Sandra's arm and moved to welcome him. He tucked her under
his side for a warm hug.

"I'm here for twelve thorny long-stemmed stems!" Phil laughed, heartily.
"I figured as much," said Jenny. "I've got them ready." She lifted a
tissue-wrapped arrangement form the refrigerated cabinet.
"Beautiful," said Phil. "My wife will love them."

Sandra could not resist asking, "These are for your wife?" Phil saw that
Sandra's curiosity matched his when he first heard of a Thorn Bouquet. "Do
you mind me asking, 'Why thorns?"

"In fact, I'm glad you asked, "he said. "Four years ago my wife and I nearly
divorced. After forty years, we were in a real mess, but we slogged through,
problem by rotten problem. We rescued our marriage - our love, really. Last
year, at Thanksgiving, I stopped in here for flowers. I must have mentioned
surviving a tough process because Jenny told me that for a long time she
kept a vase of rose stems --- stems!--- As a reminder of what she learned
from 'thorny' times. That was good enough for me. I took home stems, My wife
and I decided to label each one for a specific thorny situation and give
thanks for what the problem taught us. I'm pretty sure this stem review is
becoming a tradition." Phil paid Jenny, thanked her again and as he left,
said to Sandra, "I highly recommend the Special!"

"I don't know if I can be thankful for the thorns in my life, " Sandra said
to Jenny.

"Well, my experience says that thorns make roses more precious. We treasure
God's providential care more during trouble than at any other time.
Remember, Sandra, Jesus wore a crown of thorns so that we might know His
love. Do not resent thorns."

Tears rolled down Sandra's cheeks. For the first time since the accident she
loosened her grip on resentment. "I'll take twelve long-stemmed thorns,
please."

"I hoped you would, " Jenny said. "I'll have them ready in a minute. Then,
every time you see them, remember to appreciate both good and hard times. We
grow through both."

"Thank you. What do I owe you?"

"Nothing. Nothing but a pledge to work toward healing your heart. The first
year's arrangement is always on me."

Jenny handed a card to Sandra. "I'll attach a card like this to your
arrangement but maybe you'd like to read it first. Go ahead, read it."

My God, I have never thanked Thee for my thorn! I have thanked Thee a
thousand times for my roses, but never once for my thorn. Teach me the glory
of the cross I bear, teach me the value of my thorns. Show me that I have
climbed to Thee by the path of pain. Show me that my tears have made my
rainbow.

George Matheson