This past week, I had the chance to step away and create flowers—not for a wedding or event— but for what I can only describe as transcendent and other-worldly purposes. A break in my rhythm, a pause in my heart and a gathering of souls gave space for revitalization in my mind and body. I remembered that the motivation of my work is both loving people and caring for earth’s creatures whether big or small. This recalibration towards the center of why I do flowers is a practice I want to set in motion as I go forth from this experience.
Arriving back home to a world so weary, I could only help but wonder what I am doing in my own tiny sphere to truly live out love. As my heart breaks for what is happening to my fellow human beings in Afghanistan amidst grieving the continued impact of COVID, it’s easy to feel some mix of hopeless and helpless. I don’t think I’m alone in this feeling as it is in our nature to cry-out when death persists. Sure we don’t always feel it, but even if our hearts have shut off the pain, our minds know it’s tragedy.
We know what suffering looks like and we can spot it from miles away and most of us are miles away from what we see on the news. If there is a theme that keeps coming up for me this week it is whatever I do, do it in love. Love is an ambiguous word but I do know it is patient, kind, not self-seeking or boastful. There is a lot I can’t do with the weight of the world bearing down, but I CAN love my neighbors and the people around me even if it costs me my own ego, time or comfort.
The flowers that you see here are created with my neighbors in mind. A beloved one is fighting cancer, another desperate for healing from an autoimmune disease that has plagued her for 10 years now. Another just went through a big move; and my neighbor who lives just a stone’s throw away is about to send her first child off to kindergarten. Selecting each stem—a prayer—and placing it delicately in their chosen vessels, was a plead for healing, freedom from anxiety and rest in the daily decisions that can sometimes feel overwhelming.
My family moved to Philadelphia in June 2020 from a Brooklyn community we felt sad to leave since we were deeply invested in our friendships there. Yet, from the second we pulled up to our new home, these neighbors extended a life-source to us, unloading our boxes and befriending strangers. During a year that could have completely depleted me, I have felt full, loved, seen and cared for by these sweet women and their families. Each of them deserves their own blog entry and I certainly could write at least double the amount I have shared here. While there are no perfect communities and we certainly do not shy away from vulnerability and accountability, there are imperfect people who are struggling together, holding each other and garnishing hope for each other when it is difficult to do for ourselves.
Aimee Beloved-One, Stacey, Rachel and Monica these are for you.
Thank you Kelly Perry for creating space to encounter the wonder of both glory and grace.