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The colour of sunshine and blessing

Pat Reddekopp

Mona reached out and touched the soft shape of the tulip growing through the side of the porch step. The yellow petals vied with the sunshine in brilliance. A symbol of life, thought Mona, smiling to herself. She opened the door and entered her home, a prayer on her lips: “Lord, would you give me life until my children are all grown up and independent?”

Closing the door, Mona leaned against it. It was good to be home again. So much had been happening. Infant Greg in the hospital all the months after he was born. Noticing the lump in her neck. The promise she made to herself to get it looked at after Greg was home. Learning that she had cancer and that the cancer had spread. Treatments and the long road to recovery, if recovery was to be. “Just until they are grown, Lord,” she said again. “Please.”

The doorbell rang. Mona’s neighbour Nita stood on the step with Greg in her arms. “I saw you come home, so I thought I would bring him right over.” As Greg’s chubby arms fastened themselves around her neck, tears came to Mona’s eyes. “Until he is grown, Lord,” she repeated.

Mona looked at her friend, then down at the tulip. “Look, Nita,” she said, pointing to the flower. “If the Lord grants me life, when I turn 70, I would like a whole bouquet of those, one for each year.”

Nita stooped to touch the yellow beauty. “That would be a great blessing, Mona.”

Greg stood at the observation window watching the plane taxi up to the terminal. Thinking of the precious cargo it carried, he watched the luggage carriers begin the unloading, tossing cartons and bags onto a cart. He hoped they would take more care with his package. He turned and walked to the receiving area.

There were no holes or dents in the sides of the box; that was a good sign. Greg held the box tightly as he made his way out to the van.

“I don’t know, Mr. Lawson.” Greg heard the florist’s words again. “That would be a difficult order to fill. It is off season, and 70 is a large number.”

“It has to be 70,” Greg had said.

“Okay. We will see what we can do.”

Several days had passed until a grower from Holland had called. “Mr. Lawson? We will be able to get 70 for your order, but I cannot guarantee that they will all be one colour.”

“They have to all be yellow,” Greg had insisted.

“Let me try once more.”

A week had passed, and then the wonderful call: “We can ship out your order on the first flight tomorrow.”

Now here he was carrying his special order. Thankfulness filled Greg’s heart as he walked up the steps to his parents’ home. What a blessing that his mother had gone out for just the hours he needed to arrange his surprise.

Greg’s wife Hanna swung the door open before he could reach for the bell. The largest vase Greg had ever seen in his life stood on a table in the large front entry. He set the box down and reached for his pocketknife. Carefully slitting the tape on the carton, he looked inside. Yellow as sunshine, he thought, when he saw the individually wrapped blossoms.

“Here are the bulbs, too,” Hanna said, reaching in to the bottom of the box after Greg had removed the flowers. Moments later, Greg heard Hanna counting. “Sixty-eight, sixty-nine, seventy. They’re all here,” she said.

The car door slammed, and Greg reached for his camera. As the doorknob turned, Greg lifted the camera, his hands shaking.

The colour of sunshine filled Mona’s vision. A vase of yellow tulips. Mona could hardly breathe. It was winter. How could there be so many yellow tulips here? With a trembling hand, Mona reached over and gently touched a single blossom, then buried her face in the wonderful bouquet. A symbol of life. “Thank You, Father, “ she breathed. “Thank You.”

This article is based on a true story. Pat Reddekopp is a writer from Regina.

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Last modified June 5, 2001.

© 2001 Mennonite Brethren Herald.
Published by the Canadian Conference of MB Churches.
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