The Blessing Of Thorns

This just came into my email box and after feeling a bit torn today seems rather appropiate!  

THE BLESSING OF THORNS

Sandra felt as low as the heels of her shoes 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 that from
her.

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 for the holiday.

Then 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. She has no idea what I’m feeling, thought Sandra with a
shudder.

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 shop clerk’s approach startled
her.

“I….I need an arrangement,” stammered Sandra.

“For Thanksgiving? Do you want beautiful but ordinary, or would you like
to challenge the day with a customer favorite I call the Thanksgiving
“Special?” asked the shop clerk. “I’m convinced that flowers tell
stories,” she continued. “Are you looking for something that conveys
‘gratitude’ this thanksgiving?”

“Not exactly!” Sandra blurted out. “In the last five months, everything
that could go wrong has gone wrong.”

Sandra regretted her outburst, and was surprised when the shop clerk
said, “I have the perfect arrangement for you.”

Just then the shop door’s small bell rang, and the shop clerk said, “Hi,
Barbara…let me get your order.” She politely excused herself and
walked toward a small workroom, then quickly reappeared, carrying an
arrangement of greenery, bows, and long-stemmed thorny roses. Except the
ends of the rose stems were neatly snipped: there were no flowers.

“Want this in a box?” asked the clerk.

Sandra watched for the customer’s response. Was this a joke? Who would
want rose stems with no flowers! She waited for laughter, but neither
woman laughed.

“Yes, please,” Barbara, replied with an appreciative smile. “You’d think
after three years of getting the special, I wouldn’t be so moved by its
significance, but I can feel it right here, all over again,” she said as
she gently tapped her chest. And she left with her order.

“Uh,” stammered Sandra, “that lady just left with, uh….she just left
with no flowers!

“Right, said the clerk, “I cut off the flowers. That’s the Special. I
call it the Thanksgiving Thorns Bouquet.”

“Oh, come on, you can’t tell me someone is willing to pay for that!”
exclaimed Sandra.

“Barbara came into the shop three years ago feeling much like you feel
today,” explained the clerk. “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 was facing major surgery.”

“That same year I had lost my husband,” continued the clerk, “and for
the first time in my life, had just spent the holidays alone. I had no
children, no husband, no family nearby, and too great a debt to allow
any travel.”

“So what did you do?” asked Sandra.

“I learned to be thankful for thorns,” answered the clerk quietly. “I’ve
always thanked God for the good things in my life and never questioned
the good things that happened to me, but when bad stuff hit, did I ever
ask questions! It took time for me to learn that dark times are
important. I have 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 sucked in her breath as she thought about the very thing her
friend had tried to tell her. “I guess the truth is I don’t want
comfort. I’ve lost a baby and I’m angry with God.”

Just then someone else walked in the shop. “Hey, Phil!” shouted the
clerk to the balding, rotund man.

“My wife sent me in to get our usual Thanksgiving Special….12 thorny,
long-stemmed stems!” laughed Phil as the clerk handed him a
tissue-wrapped arrangement from the refrigerator.

“Those are for your wife?” asked Sandra incredulously. “Do you mind me
asking why she wants something that looks like that?”

“No…I’m glad you asked,” Phil replied. “Four years ago my wife and I
nearly divorced. After forty years, we were in a real mess, but with the
Lord’s grace and guidance, we slogged through problem after problem. He
rescued our marriage. Jenny here (the clerk) told me she kept a vase of
rose stems to remind her of what she learned from “thorny” times, and
that was good enough for me. I took home some of those stems. My wife
and I decided to label each one for a specific “problem” and give thanks
for what that problem taught us.”

As Phil paid the clerk, he 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. “It’s all too…fresh.”

“Well,” the clerk replied carefully, “my experience has shown me that
thorns make roses more precious. We treasure God’s providential care
more during trouble than at any other time. Remember, it was a crown of
thorns that Jesus wore so we might know His love. Don’t resent the
thorns.”

Tears rolled down Sandra’s cheeks. For the first time since the
accident, she loosened her grip on resentment. “I’ll take those twelve
long-stemmed thorns, please,” she managed to choke out.

“I hoped you would,” said the clerk gently. “I’ll have them ready in a
minute.”

“Thank you. What do I owe you?”

“Nothing. Nothing but a promise to allow God to heal your heart. The
first year’s arrangement is always on me.” The clerk smiled and handed a
card to Sandra. “I’ll attach this card to your arrangement, but maybe
you would like to read it first.”

It read: “My God, I have never thanked You for my thorns. I have thanked
You a thousand times for my roses, but never once for my thorns. Teach
me the glory of the cross I bear; teach me the value of my thorns. Show
me that I have climbed closer to You along the path of pain. Show me
that, through my tears, the colors of Your rainbow look much more
brilliant.”

Praise Him for your roses; thank him for your thorns!

— Author Unknown

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