Fallen

Last night's ferocious wind toppled many of the flowers I'd started from seed. I found my once glorious mass of 5-foot-tall pink cosmos cowering on the ground, broken at the base. Some of the perennials were uprooted too.

I sighed. I knew I had a lot of cleaning up to do, but I decided to salvage what I could and make bouquets. I brightened at the thought of delivering one to a homebound neighbor. I spent a lot of time sitting on my garden path, searching the heap and culling the stems for suitable blossoms. What a mess! It would have been so much easier to take these cuttings straight to the garbage can.

Instead, I saw the hummingbird that dared come to the nearby petunias because I stayed still so long. I noticed, for the first time in my long relationship with cosmos, the perfectly-shaped yellow stars bursting inside. I saw the bees that still hovered, attracted to these fallen blooms. It reminded me that we can possess beauty and purpose even when we need help to stay upright.


Many years ago, for a newspaper piece, I interviewed women who had survived breast cancer. Their collective strength and upbeat attitudes were inspiring. I still remember the spin one of them gave to a common expression:

"When life gives you lemons," she said, "learn to love the lemons."

During her cancer battle she was buoyed by the support of neighbors and colleagues who brought meal after meal, among myriad other compassionate acts. She was touched when her church group formed a driving posse to cart her on the 120-mile round trip to chemotherapy treatments -- for six weeks straight.

A rare side effect of her treatment was hip bone deterioration, but she never considered it for herself, with such far-out odds. It happened. The day of her hip replacement surgery she came out of the hospital, looked at the mountains looming above her, and was grateful she'd already had a chance to climb them.

We don't always know what will fall in our path or, rather, what paths we'll fall into. Yet we can keep marching forward. I wouldn't have picked some of my struggles, but they've helped me to see anew that my husband and children love me -- despite my foibles. And I know more assuredly that my Heavenly Father does too.


Sometimes we add sugar to make lemonade. Sometimes lemons help us appreciate the sweetness that was there all along.