“This is the day the Lord has made; let’s rejoice and be glad in it,” he chirped.
Morning was the perfect time to reach upward, and the small bloom did so with a flowery flourish.
“Get ready. Here comes the light!”
“Move over. I want it too!”
All around the Whirling Butterfly plant, shafts of golden warmth ignited the eager stems with the promise of a new day. The little flower joined with the other blooms in lofting off the morning breeze.
They whirled toward the sunlight.
“Wait!” The excited murmur cut off. “Not yet. Patience, young blooms.”
The entirety of the thick swath of green stems and white and pink-tipped flowers turned toward the soft voice of the elderly flower. She wore her age and wisdom with the deep pink staining her petals.
“In order to be lifted up, first you must be filled.”
The legend was that the elder flower burst into bloom the evening of the bright, exploding colorful lights at mid-summer’s peak. The young blooms were the last crop of summer, and they were eager to blossom fully and enjoy the waning warmth before fall’s official arrival.
Now, with the children gone again during the day and night temperatures dipping lower, the youngest blooms hoped to glean from her wisdom.
“You must wait for the dew to soak in,” the wise old flower said, her mauve petals held together. “You are too dry. The sun will scorch your stem and petals just yet. We whirl best when we are water-filled.”
The young flower listened intently. Wait for the dew to soak in, then whirl.
“But the sun gives us the strength to whirl and grow.” A tiny bud spoke up.
“The sun will give you strength, true, but you must soak in the moisture from last night’s rain and this morning’s dew first. Sunlight and water together allow us to whirl for our Maker.”
Cherry petals danced in the light breeze as she opened them, looking at the many blooms around her.
“Do you want to show the glory of our Maker?”
An exultant, “YES!” rose up, drowning out the Cardinal’s chirp.
“Wonderful! We will direct people to His glory until the ground is frozen and the gray of winter takes over. But the only way you will bloom and whirl now is with His water in you. Before you reach for the sun, drink.”
The young flower carefully closed its petals as it drew up moisture from the roots. It was a tedious process, and he was learning to be careful to gulp slowly so all the other stems had enough water.
“You are kind to think of others.”
The young flower preened its petals at the praise.
“Many young blossoms reach up too early. They don’t realize the sunlight is too bright for them by themselves. They must have living water in their stem and petals to whirl. It is as our Maker intended.”
The young bloom nodded in acknowledgement, but then a question cross his mind.
“What about when it doesn’t rain?”
“There are times you will be dry. You must learn to reach down deep for moisture, and learn to drink of the dew of night. But rain, it always comes. Sometimes, we must be patient and trust.”
“But what if the clouds do not provide rain for many, many days?”
“Then we wait and trust. You will be dry and uncomfortable, but you will not die. Moisture always comes, whether from the clouds or the green hose or from the dew. You will learn this. Our Maker always provides.”
The narrow rays of sunshine grew wider and wider until scalding sunlight overcame shadows lingering from night. The young flower finished drinking and began stretching slowly, whirling upward. Its dark green stem was flowing with life-giving water.
In the fullness of the late summer morning, the young flower reached toward the golden sun and burst open in vibrant bloom, stem and petals whirling for the glory of its Maker.