LYRIC

A couple weeks ago, I drove to the small flower shop in my hometown. The building is the old Seminole Firehouse – red brick, refurbished, and a little industrial. It sits right between the town’s government building and the Tag Agency, just down the street from the old main street, where the library, local café and other businesses are still hanging on.

When I arrived, I parked in the 15-minute, government building parking space, because sometimes I’m a risk taker; I only had 20 minutes left of my lunch hour and the trade for parking further away seemed worth it. After all, my mission was not altruistic; I wasn’t there to buy or pick up flowers for an occasion such as a memorial, congratulations, a special day or any of the normal things one may buy flowers for.

Walking in, I heard the tinkle of a bell on the door, but the store was empty. However, from a room to the left I heard the classic, “I’ll be right there!”

As I wandered around, I was disappointed to not find anything pre-arranged and ready for purchase – I needed to get back to the office.

I was just about to leave when a woman in her forties appeared with a tiny baby.

She let me know how sorry she was for the delay and that she was watching the baby for the owner, who had to step out for a few minutes. Additionally, she told me how the baby was new to all of them – she was a foster baby, born just a couple weeks prior, and had tested positive for methamphetamine at birth.

Letting go of the time constraint driving me just moments before, I made an effort to rein in the flood of questions I had and did my best to be curious and polite.

“Is the owner fostering to adopt?” I asked.

The answer was a wholehearted yes.

You know, it takes a special kind of person to take such a risk. To put yourself out there to love and care for a baby with the hope it will one day be yours, knowing full well, the court system could ultimately award the baby to someone else or deem the parents fit and return the child to a situation most of us could never understand. A person willing to take on a battle of that magnitude has a kind of steel courage and blind faith I’m not sure I possess.

As I talked to the store clerk whose name was Ginger, I asked the baby’s name, and was surprised when she said, “her name is Lyric.” It’s the name given to her by her mother, the woman who made unfathomable choices who may never get to be in her life. But on this day, it reminded me why I was in the flower shop.

I asked Ginger to make me a bouquet of anything to put on my desk at work. I wanted something pretty with summer vibes, that could bring me days of enjoyment.

You see, what took me to the flower shop that day were the lyrics to a song I had recently heard and have been trying to live.

“I buy my own flowers
And I wear my favorite perfume too
I laugh a little louder now
Than the girl I once knew…”

There is so much more in the song and not every word fits, but the idea touches me and lifts my spirits every time I walk to the porch and see my outdoor arrangement or the small vase I had on my desk last week after some exceptionally challenging days. I’m able to look at the blossoms, and find my own truth in the lyrics:

“And for the first time in a long while
being alone doesn’t feel so wrong.
Funny how healing starts to bloom
when you stop giving away every room
and finally leave a little space inside
For your own light to shine through.
So I buy my own flowers…..”

While she made my arrangement full of sunshine, I gave Lyric her pacifier and whispered a prayer for the beautiful child and her potential family. I understood I wasn’t in the flower shop for a bouquet; I was there to be touched by human connection, strength, faith and perseverance.

(Credit – Jerry’s Sound Room: Buy My Own Flowers – Single on Itunes.)