"Homegrown" flowers over "Store Bought" bouquets

All summer long, I had the great privilege to watch my flowers grow, bloom, and wither as if God Himself were singing me a sweet, silent song. I wanted to watch them in all their glory, so oftentimes I would not cut their lives short. There was, however, a certain occasion when I heard the Holy Spirit say to me, “Go make a big, beautiful bouquet from your gorgeous garden I have blessed you with, and you will know why shortly.”

Well, being someone who knows the importance of being obedient to God's requests, I did as He said. I went to my garden and began to cut the most elegant flowers from each flower bed, making sure to find as many colors as I possibly could to adorn my vase. I started with the most stunning burgundy-black sunflower that was growing right by my front door.

I made sure to be as delicate as possible and hand-pick each one because the instructions came from God! I couldn’t forget the colorful medicinal herbs like the magentas of echinacea, purples of holy basil, oranges of calendula, yellows of goldenrod, and ivories of yarrow—because what bouquet is complete without them? At least that was how I felt in the moment, almost forgetting entirely that in grocery stores, what I have grown is most likely either unavailable or not used for decorative bouquets.

I have found, since growing a huge garden that slowly transformed into a farm, that the longer I’ve spent in the wilderness, the more out of touch with the modern world I have become. In Romans 12:2, we are called to be set apart from the world, and I find that in the wilderness I tend to hear God's voice a bit clearer too, so the trade-off has been worth it.

I also harvested the tiny flowers of our deer-resistant violet catmint plant, vibrant dark maroon and pink dahlias, bursts of electric bluish-purple cornflowers, and pretty little indigo candytuft wildflowers. I was so happy not only with the bouquet’s radiance but also with its aroma—it was something I wish I could bottle and wear every day of my life. Absolutely divine, to say the least.

This handmade bouquet, that I personally had the pleasure to grow myself, sat on my kitchen table, and I thought, “Eric and I should really photograph these beauties in their prime.” So we did just that. We took our carefully curated pitcher of flowers outside and captured the photos you see below. I brought them inside while the sun quietly set and thought, “I wonder what these are for—maybe enjoyment, maybe for just this blog, or perhaps something else. I guess I will find out.”

The next day came and went. In the evening, however, I got a call from a long-time client and friend of mine, Renee. Her dog Addy was a favorite of mine that I walked almost every day for the past year and a half and sat for on occasion. I had grown quite attached to them both. Although Addy was an elderly dog, it still came as a shock to me when Renee told me Addy had passed that day—and that I was one of the last people to see her alive.

I immediately burst into tears, sobbing and in hysterics. I was devastated. This was the first time in all my years of dog sitting that a dog I had grown so close with, that wasn’t my own, had gone to sleep for the last time. I wept and wept because Addy had become a part of our family, and I loved her like my own—and now she was gone.

After returning home, I saw my lovely bouquet and immediately knew who I had made it for. Without knowing then, I had made it for Renee. That morning I prayed and prayed, asking God what I should do, because I was still so shaken and sad over Addy’s passing. God answered with a resounding word: GIVE!

So I did just that, doing what I do best—and my creative juices started to pour out of me like hot lava from a volcano. I remembered that I had these beautiful handwoven baskets from Poland, and I had just purchased a few bird planters and planted succulents inside them. I began readying a grieving basket. I knew it would not ease the pain of Addy’s death, but it was in some way an opportunity to show Renee love and support through her heartbreaking loss.

I added a cotton towel in my favorite color, green, a number of Sacred Rose Organics products, a sweet pink bird planter housing a succulent, a handwritten letter, and of course, my homegrown bouquet.

I dropped the basket off while Renee was away getting Addy’s ashes, so she would arrive home to a gesture of love during her time of grief. I encouraged her to save the seeds from the flowers—to dry them out, press or preserve them, and grow more from what she saved the next year to remind her that life can be beautiful again.

Later in the month, a friend of Renee’s had lost her mother, and she also wanted to make a grieving basket for her friend, like the one I had made her. She came to visit me at a local market I was set up at, and we were finally able to hug, reconnect, reminisce about Addy, and get her friend a similar basket for her loss as well. Even though it was a simple gift, I know it meant the world to both of us.

To me, those flowers were not just any old flowers—they were a way to tell someone I loved them and that I was with them in their pain. To me, those flowers were an act of worship, a means of trusting that if I was blindly obedient to God, He would reveal Himself and His love to me, as He always does. Flowers are so much more than plants that grow wild on the side of a highway or a pretty thing you can pick up at a grocery store. Flowers—their beauty and aroma—are one of God's many gifts and treasures. Indeed, they are medicine in the traditional sense, but more importantly, they are medicine for the soul.