The Center of the Flower

The bee plants itself in the center of the flower, draining the sweet nectar until he becomes satiated. I, too, am planted in the center of a flower, the flower of God's enduring love, and it is so very sweet here. I hope to never leave...



















Mary whispers under her breath as she prepares her lunch, I can barely make out the words, so I lean in close and hear "Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee." I smile at the sound of her prayer so sweet as honey dripping from the spoon.

Although she is nine years old, she still likes to hold my hand as we walk side by side. I am warmed by her presence and her small hand in mine as if I were enfolded in soft, fragrant petals. That warmth remains as I let go of her hand and watch her skip off and spin a cartwheel.

Later, after Mass, she turns to me and asks me to pray for her during the day. I assure her that I will, but inside I am thinking, "Daughter, you are a prayer, a living, breathing, growing prayer in all you say and do, and when I am close to you, I feel that I am in the center of God's flower of deep love."

















Dear God, keep me in the center of your rich and fragrant flower. Let me drink the sweet nectar of your care and know that here, in the company of my daughter, I will never want for anything. Amen.