There is something terrifying about flowers.
Not because they die.
But because they can die in the hands of someone who genuinely loves them.
Imagine carrying a bouquet everywhere you go.
You protect it from the rain.
You move it away from crowded places so no one crushes it.
You smile every time you catch a glimpse of it.
It slowly becomes part of your day.
A familiar presence.
Something you no longer think about, because it’s always there.
Until one ordinary afternoon…you actually look.
Really look.
And suddenly, the petals had curled.
The colours had quietly faded.
The fragrance had disappeared long before you noticed its absence.
It hadn’t died that day. It had been dying for a while.
The frightening part wasn’t that the flowers were dead.
The frightening part was realizing they had been dying in the hands of someone who never intended to neglect them.
Someone who still loved them.
Someone who still carried them.
Someone who honestly believed they were fine.
Maybe that’s what happens to the soul.
Life doesn’t usually ask us to abandon what is sacred, It simply asks us to postpone it Just for today.
Then tomorrow.
Then next week.
Until what once gave us life becomes something we keep meaning to return to.
And perhaps,,that’s why this thought refused to leave me.
Because it wasn’t guilt that I felt. It was grief. A holy ache.
The kind that settles softly in your chest, Like opening a drawer and finding a letter you forgot to send.
Like hearing an old voice note and wondering where that version of you went.
Like looking through an old prayer journal and realizing your handwriting is still the same, but something about the hunger feels different.
Like watering a plant faithfully only to realize you’ve been watering the leaves while the roots have been dying.
And the strange thing about roots is this;they don’t cry out when they’re thirsty.
They simply stop drawing life. Until one day the leaves begin telling a story that the roots had been living for months.
And I couldn’t stop thinking about the life this reminded me of.
Not because he stopped loving God.
But because he never imagined one could slowly lose sight of something he never stopped loving.
That’s the thing about life, It rarely arrives like a storm.
It doesn’t knock your door down and announce that it’s about to rearrange your priorities.
It simply walks in and asks for a little more.
A little more time.
A little more attention.
A little more strength.
A little more of today.
Then tomorrow asks for the same thing.
And before long…
your days no longer belong to you.
They belong to whatever is shouting the loudest.
A responsibility here.
A deadline there.
A family depending on you.
A business that needs building.
A ministry that needs serving.
A future that won’t wait.
None of them evil.
None of them wrong.
In fact…
most of them are beautiful. That’s what makes it so difficult to notice.
Because not everything that pulls us away from what matters looks dangerous.
Some things look like purpose.
Some things look like growth.
Some things even look like answered prayers. And maybe that’s why it goes unnoticed for so long.
Because from the outside everything still looks alive.
The Bible is still on the bedside table.
Prayer still happens.
Church is still home.
Worship still brings tears.
The Holy Spirit is still felt.
Nothing appears broken.
Nothing appears missing.
Until one ordinary day something makes you pause. Not because life suddenly falls apart, But because, for the first time in a long time…you become quiet enough to hear your own soul.
And somehow the silence says more than the noise ever could.
Then a Scripture quietly settled in, not like a correction.
More like a Father gently placing His hand over something you hadn’t noticed.
“Keep your heart with all diligence, for out of it flow the issues of life.”
— Proverbs 4:23
“THE ISSUES”
Everything flows from there.
Joy.
Peace.
Wonder.
Conviction.
Tenderness.
Even our capacity to recognize His voice.
And I wondered…
What if the greatest loss wasn’t that life became busy… What if it was that, somewhere along the way our hearts quietly became occupied?
Because occupied hearts rarely notice when they’re running on yesterday’s oil.
Occupied hearts don’t always stop loving God. They simply stop paying attention to Him.
And perhaps, those are not the same thing.
The realization stayed with him.
Long after the tears. Long after the silence.
Long after he had found words for what his heart had been carrying.
Because some moments don’t change you immediately.
They simply refuse to leave you.
And perhaps, that was grace.
Not rushing him,Not condemning him.
Just… staying, Until he was finally quiet enough to hear again.
Then, somewhere in the stillness…
something settled in his spirit, Not like a loud announcement. More like a Father reminding His child of something that had always been true.
“I will make you everything I have called you to be.”
Then I think… “Perhaps becoming has never been the child’s responsibility.
Perhaps becoming has always belonged to the Father.”
The words rested there. Not demanding effort,Removing it As though Heaven was saying,
“Your becoming was never your burden to carry alone.Worry less”
You see, Some burdens don’t break your back.
They quietly change the way you breathe.
He laughed.
Not because life suddenly became easy.
Because he suddenly remembered…
God had never once asked him to carry tomorrow.
Such simple words. Yet they carried a weight only peace could carry.
Because maybe worry has never added a single page to anyone’s story. It has only stolen the strength to read the page they’re already on.
Then his heart answered before his mind could.
“I refuse to become a stranger in my Father’s house.”
Not because the Father had moved. Not because the door had been closed.
But because home deserved more than occasional visits.
And just when he thought heaven had finished speaking…one final thought settled over him.
So softly…
he almost missed it.
“There is light. Not only at the end of the tunnel… right beside you.”
He smiled, Because all this time…
he had been waiting to arrive before allowing himself to hope. Not knowing that hope had been walking beside him all along.
Maybe that’s what grace has always looked like.
Not dragging us toward the light. But gently opening our eyes to the One who never stopped walking with us.
And perhaps, that’s the beauty of looking up.
You don’t always discover a different road.
Sometimes…
you simply discover that God never left the one you’re already on.
BeautyForAshes🗽🌄 