When You Gotta Have Tulips

“We forget all too soon the things 

we thought we could never forget.”  Joan Didion

I had to have those tulips! It hasn’t happened to me very often, but I was a bit obsessed. When I’d done an escape for supplies earlier in the week, I saw fresh flowers in a local store. During our over three decades of marriage, I’ve brought home to Jane hundreds, perhaps thousands of flowers. Never overly expensive but something of beauty and freshness. It’s just a simple way to let her know that I love and appreciate her. Now I saw fresh flowers again. This time I felt driven to buy them. I wasn’t sure why.  I just knew that I felt had to have those flowers.

  They were "$5 for Friday," which added to the allure. Some were bunches of the same color but there was one bunch with multicolored tulips. That was it! The variety of freshness and beauty was the one.

  But then when I went to check-out, and the price scanned was $14.99. I assured the clerk that they were “$5 for Friday.” He politely went and checked, couldn’t find a price and gave them all to me for $4.00.

  If I could, I’d buy flowers and pots and pots of flowers every time I venture out these days. Yet, I’m not really a “flower person,” (or flower child for those of you who grew up in the ’60s). I don’t have a green thumb and have difficulty determining the difference between much more than the more well-known types of flowers. Why the passion now? Beauty, nature, growth – all become more valuable and precious to us in times of sickness, decay, and death. Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

  The famous world-class Japanese-American artist, Makoto Fujimara, lived a few blocks from Ground Zero in a neighborhood popular with artists. Prior to the World Trade Center disaster, those artists were producing works intended to shock, most of them portraying dark scenes, obscenity, and violence. After the terrorist attack, many of these artists were shut out of their homes and studios. After 9/11 Mako faced an unusual opportunity. He’s a thoughtful Christian and opened a communal studio to allow these artists to keep working. He dedicated it as “an oasis of collaboration by Ground Zero artists.”

  But what had happened at Ground Zero was darker, more obscene, and violent than anything these artists could ever have imagined in their worst nightmares. Now in the safety of Mako’s studio, they rediscovered beauty, humaneness, courage, gentleness. Their new works of art began to reflect this new appreciation and outlook. One artist known for darkness and decadence made a wonderful creation, folding hundreds of white origami butterflies and arranging them in a beautiful pattern.

  After being bombarded for months now with scenes of hospitals, death, and dying from various parts of the globe, fresh scenes of spring and life and beauty are a greater longing on our hearts. It makes us want tulips!

  One of my most missed memories of growing up in the south is the Dogwood trees. We had a white one in our front yard when I was a child. Atlanta has an Annual Dogwood Festival. How I miss those beautiful white and pink blossoms this year with a yearning I haven’t had in decades.  

  Recently I heard a radio commentator share the thrill of hearing birds singing in Manhattan and commented that he couldn’t remember ever hearing birds in NYC before. Last week World News contributor Kim Henderson related that as she joined her husband on their front porch early one morning, he said to her, “You just missed it.” Then, he told her that he’d been watching a grey fox that had just scurried away.

  After this, I hope we never again take smiles for granted! Like many others, I’ve finally succumbed to a mask. You can maybe notice smiling eyes over the top…maybe. It’s harder though. Those masks make me long to see full faces. Breathing through fabric makes me long to once again smell salt air blowing in from the ocean or the scent of pine trees in a forest. When I’m out walking, I find I quickly wave at anyone who happens to make eye contact, mask free!

  Have you joined the Happy Heart Facebook group? It’s grown to hundreds of thousands decorating windows with colorful hearts. Many are family art projects. Others are communicating love for a healthcare worker in the home or sometimes the loss of a loved one. Chalk art on driveways and sidewalks with a myriad of color has become increasingly common.

  Though we’re limited on how much we’re out, I can’t recall seeing anyone talking on a phone in a store, oblivious to others around them. The absence of personal human contact has made us long for it all the more.

  Our hearts have always gone out to those separated from loved ones who were in the military, serving our country on foreign soil. Now hospitals and nursing homes down the street have become “foreign soil.” We’d drive by senior centers hardly giving them a thought. Not today. Many of us, out of love and for the protection of our elderly loved ones, haven’t seen them in weeks. No personal contact, no hugs, no gentle touches. Some have gotten very creative to stay in contact. One man works for a company with cherry pickers and had himself lifted up so that he could greet his elderly Mom in her second-floor apartment.

  For us, mealtimes at home together have grown very precious. We find we linger longer at the table, though we’re spending more time with each other than we’ve spent in years. Our prayer time for those struggling, particularly with health issues, is deeper and more passionate.  

  At first, Sundays were very depressing for me. I’m not sure if I started the series in Philippians more for our church or for me. This pandemic has given me a whole new appreciation of the Apostle Paul and the power of his words about joy, peace, and contentment.

  I miss my church family! I miss singing together! I miss seeing people greet and hug each other. I miss giving children high fives! I miss toddler giggles and squeals. I miss seeing folk gathered, sharing their lives, coffee cup in hand. I miss praying with each other.

  I miss it all. How about you? May we never take it for granted again and may we never forget!

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