Growing up my parents loved planting flowers.
Living in a parsonage in Queens, NY they didn't have much space to plant many flowers, but they sure knew how to fill that little space with beautiful flowers.
One year, when I was a little girl I wanted to help.
But being a little girl, I think I got in the way more than I helped.
I wanted my own little garden.
My own little space.
My father patiently walked me over to this little area under the hedges that
separated our yard from the neighbors behind us.
He told me this could be my garden and
handed me a package of seeds and showed me how to plant them.
I carefully watered my seeds daily.
I talked to them daily.
I looked carefully every day for some sign of life.
And surprise, surprise, tiny little seedlings started popping up through the dirt in my little garden under the hedges in our house in Queens, NY.
I was so happy.
And you know what?
Every year those flowers came back!
Even the spring before I got married, those little flowers made their appearance.
The seeds he gave me were for Lily of the Valley flowers.
Every spring those flowers would return and we could see those flowers as
we sat at the kitchen table eating our meals.
Well, at least I always noticed them.
And I think my dad did also.
Thinking of those flowers now, they will fill me with happiness.
Happiness for a father taking time out of his busy day to show
his little girl how to plant some seeds,
but more importantly happiness knowing
how much this little girl was loved by her father.