And then you water the flowers…

Sometimes the world is sad…or scary…or disgusting…or infuriating.

Sometimes the world is sad, scary, disgusting, and infuriating all at the same time. And sometimes on those days all you can do is cry and rock yourself for a bit.

You might weep for the hatred and vitriol being tossed around between warring sides of a political arena, religious community, or philosophical groups.

You might weep for old loves lost and new ones you aren’t sure will appear.

You might weep for the coming loss of an elderly loved one, a home, a dream, or a child’s innocence.

You might weep for the moaning of the very earth at the fact that it’s inhabitants do not often enough stop to see her splendor or worse yet, rape her of her natural resources and then shrug when asked about their responsibility for being good stewards.

You might weep for so many reasons.

And you might rock yourself…back and forth. Back and forth. Eyes closed. Chin tucked. Back and forth. Finding comfort in moving like a mother, like a wave, like a tree blowing in the wind. Back and forth.

And then you stand up…and you go water the flowers.

The flowers that moments ago you couldn’t give a second thought through your sadness. The flowers, who’s very death would be a exclamation point to your heartbreak story. The flowers and their color and beauty and pure need for protection from the elements of heat and dryness and all things that might make them wilt.

You water the flowers.

Because in watering the flowers you are saying to your deepest parts, “Today we are sad and still there is work to be done.”

You water the flowers…because the flowers need water and you are a water bearer.

You water the flowers.