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Religion

A Tale Of Two Flowers

“Your flowers are so beautiful. I am happy it made it through the flight intact. Mine did too.” I looked beside me to see the smiling face of a short lady wearing a hat and dark glasses with a silk shirt and black pants held together with a broad belt. I smiled back and responded, “I was so worried but, yes it did.”

“I was presented 70 roses for my 70th birthday party in Dubai.” She said.

“70th! Wow! Congratulations!”, I exclaimed as I looked down to a beautiful bouquet of purple roses and the fancy lady who carried them with admiration. The bounce in her steps was sure as we made our way to the arrival lounge from the tarmac of the Sam Mbakwe International Airport Owerri, Nigeria.

The lady continued. “I am going to dry them up and keep them in my house.”

“That sounds lovely ma’am. Congratulations again.” I said, pushing my exhaustion to the back of my mind and gathering all my strength to present a smile.

She mouthed her thanks as she walked spiritedly past me like she was in her 20s.

ALSO READ: COVID-19: Nigeria Records 168 New Cases, One Death

Earlier in the day, at departure at the Muritala Muhammed Airport 2, I had received many glances and some compliments for the colourful mix of assorted flowers (including bright red and off-white roses and tulips) I was carrying. Airport officials and fellow passengers alike paid attention. Many of them said congratulations and I grinned back. A particular female airport attendant beamed with a smile while she sang her words like music – “Happy birthday to someone special” she said. Hoping for a tip.

I would have given many tips and shared the joy of the congratulatory messages, except that unlike the cheerful lady who celebrated her 70th birthday, my flowers were made into a funeral wreath. I carried them with much pain in my heart. I bore it in honour of a brother who had passed on a few weeks ago and his wife who is a dear friend. I protected it all the way because though the assignment was sad, I felt privileged to carry the wreath to the Umuahia family home where our dearly departed’s remains would lay in last respect.

My encounter with the old exuberant lady lingered in my mind. We both had flowers – hers was a bouquet, mine was a wreath, but our stories were so different. What a life. It reminded me of the metaphor of human life as a flower in the Bible.

For He knows our frame; He is mindful that we are dust. As for man, his days are like grass—he blooms like a flower of the field when the wind passes over, it vanishes, and its place remembers it no more. Psalms 103:14-16

God knows how fragile the life we as human beings have is. He knows that like a flower, we might be here all lively and blooming this moment and we may be gone the next moment. However, like his son, Jesus Christ, who spent 33 years on earth, He chooses to bring us for an appointed time in the hope that we will bring colour, beauty and joy to our world like my dear brother did to his.

Like a flower, our dearly beloved beautified his world and that of those who met him while he was alive. He was a breath of fresh air. His exploit on earth was colourful, impactful and worthwhile. We would have loved to have him for 70 years, but he was gone at 40. He was with us one day and he was gone in a moment.

Yet, we are so glad he came. Testimonies about him point to the fact that he lived a full life. He served his God and people wholeheartedly. All flowers will eventually wither and die but the memories of the love, joy and glory they were to those who encountered them will linger forever.

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