about them. She couldn’t help but admire their handiwork and so
she gratefully received each floral tribute.
Besides, Candy’s grandmother, “G’Ma,” had always said, “Don’t
waste flowers on my gravesite when it’s my turn to go—let someone
else enjoy them. Flowers are for the living!” (G’Ma had owned a
beautiful flower garden that she tended for the pure pleasure of it.)
So this past spring when Janet Bartee died, Candy and her sisters
remembered their G’Ma’s oft-repeated sentiment. They also remem-
bered the pleasure Janet had taken in their bouquets, and they de-
cided that everyone who attended Janet’s funeral should take home
the funeral flowers when the service was over in memory of their
mother.
What a wonderful funeral that was! I was powerfully moved to
hear Candy (who is now a missionary with her husband, Wylie, in
Colombia) share memories of growing up in her mother’s home.
Then she closed by inviting all in attendance to come into a rela-
tionship with Jesus.
At the gravesite I realized that Candy and her sisters were creat-
ing a beautiful tribute to their mom. What better way to honor her
memory than to send each of us away with armloads of riotous
blooms in every color of springtime? And I couldn’t help but picture
Janet’s pleasure at seeing her girls bestow on each of us a crown of
beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and
a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.
My Father and my God, I worship you for the beauty of your world
and for the personalities of those who take joy in it. I praise you for
your gracious heart that wants to replace our grieving with delight.
We give you all of our praise. Amen.60 CLAIRECLONINGER