It shouldn't have happened.
I bought some tulips last week. They were white. They were beautiful. They added life to my house. I felt refreshed when I looked at them. My house grew into a chaotic mess all week and the flowers were a focal point for me. When I looked at them, I felt peace. They were beauty in the middle of ugliness.
I kept them on the table most of the week. They went from the table to the counter and back to the table again before and after each meal.
The flowers made me smile.
And then, I moved them. I put them on the window sill in the kitchen.
I left them there, slowly dying.
Tonight I looked up and thought, "That shouldn't have happened. I should have thrown them out days ago."
The flowers are a picture of death. The beauty is gone. I look at them and realize I am too consumed with my busy schedule to throw out old flowers.
I hear the words loudly. I realize that even in the midst of Lent and looking forward to Easter, I have been self-centered.
The dead flowers are meaningful again. They remind me of Christ's death. They remind me of myself.
It's shouldn't have happened. I am so glad it did.
There's no beauty in death.
On Easter, I will celebrate life.
There is beauty in resurrection.
Tonight, I am struck by the sadness of death. Tonight, I anticipate a new beginning.
Tomorrow, I will replace the dead, lifeless flowers with a living plant.
I will focus on the beauty of life.