Article January 11, 1999 Issue

Flower power

What a bunch of daffodils taught me about Christ

By Kay Ramsdell Olson

When I was growing up, my Aunt Bidy was one of my favorite people. (Her real name was Violet, but when my brother was little, he had trouble getting his tongue around the name.) She took time to show me the beauty in things: music, paintings, books, and flowers. Some of my warmest memories are the walks we took through my grandmother's extensive flower gardens. Aunt Bidy would exclaim over the pansies and peonies, the snowdrops, tulips, roses, phlox, and daffodils. I'm truly grateful for her genuine delight in all things beautiful and her patient efforts to instill the same in me.

I'm grateful for another woman who, through her writings, taught me more about flowers. Mary Baker Eddy wrote of flowers at a church service, "These flowers are floral apostles" (Miscellaneous Writings, p. 179). An apostle is one who is sent forth to teach, and recently while traveling, I understood better what Mrs. Eddy meant.

As I entered the hotel room where I was staying, I was greeted by a glass vase filled with daffodil buds. I placed them on the table next to the bed, and leaned back on the bed pillows to read. After a while, I happened to glance at the vase, and three of the buds were in full bloom. I was in awe. Silently, without my noticing, "daffodil activity" was going on! I didn't see, hear, or feel any daffodil movement. Yet, full-blown daffodils quietly appeared—sunshiny, yellow trumpets framed in collars of perfectly formed petals. I looked at them for a long time, sure there was an important spiritual lesson in these flowers.

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