MORE ABOUT SPECIFICS: PART I
My 16-year-old daughter just attended prom with her boyfriend who is a junior. Prom day is always a busy day, completely dedicated to the process of getting ready with a finale of taking pictures. It was pouring down rain all day long. I took my daughter to get her hair done at 10 a.m. and I ran errands, picking up the dress that had been altered, etc. I returned home from an errand with about 30 minutes to spare. Faith was still getting ready. I was relieved to be able to sit down for a moment. I’d have just enough time to eat a salad, have a glass of water, and recharge myself. We would leave about 10 minutes early to go pick up the boutonniere on our way to her boyfriend’s house for pictures.
It was on the way, after all. Besides, it was pouring down rain, why make an extra trip. I sat down relieved. I was considering making a salad when the Holy Spirit said, “Pick up the boutonniere; there’s a problem.”
“What?” I said. “A problem? How can there be a problem with the boutonniere; it’s a boutonniere.” I knew the Holy Spirit wouldn’t respond. He had spoken, and I was to be obedient. I put on my rain gear and told my family I was going to get the boutonniere. My family thought it made no sense; they couldn’t understand why I’d want to make a special trip in the torrential down pour. I did not feel the need to explain my conversation with the Holy Spirit to my family; I proceeded to the floral department at the local Publix grocery store.
When I got to the floral counter, nobody was there. A nice teenage boy working in produce came up to me, took my name, and went to get the boutonniere. He came back with a box large enough for 3 pieces of cake. The boutonniere was huge! Instead of a nice small, white rose, with baby’s breath and a blue-purple ribbon, there before my eyes was a flower the size of my palm to mid finger. I don’t want to exaggerate so I will say that it wasn’t the size of my entire hand, but it almost was! Apparently, it was a rose, but it looked like a tulip that had been grown with a steroid solution. Then, there was an even larger supply of baby’s breath behind it. And now, now, I will describe the ribbon. It was obnoxious. It was large and thick. It wasn’t even tied in a nice bow. The center of the bow was twisted and knotted like a five-year-old tied it for his mom on Mother’s Day. On each side of the hideous knot were two huge floppy bow-ears. I just stared at it; my mouth was open.
The teenage boy said, “All good, Ma’m?”
“Son,” I replied. (I realized I sounded like an 80-year-old southern lady). “Son, tell me, what do you think about this?”
“Um. I don’t know. I don’t make them.”
I could tell he wanted no blame coming his way.
“Son, I don’t mean to be rude here, but this thing will compete for attention with the boy’s head. I can’t bring this to my teenage daughter. Is the lady here so I can ask her to redo it, please?:
“Sure, I’ll go get her.”
The nice lady who has always made our boutonnières approached me.
“Hi. Is there a problem?”
“I’m really sorry, but I’m just concerned this is too large.”
“Well, I thought so too,” she replied, “but the man you left the order with cut off a piece of this ribbon to the order slip and directed me to use that ribbon. That ribbon is not boutonnière ribbon, but I was trying to follow the instructions. I had to make everything as big and thick as the ribbon.”
“Oh,” I replied. “Well, he asked us what color the dress was. We pointed to that ribbon because that is the color of her dress, but as far as what your rules are about ribbon, I do not know those.”
“Well, I will remake it for you; I want you to be happy,” she said.
“Thank you so much; I greatly appreciate your help.
Since I had 30 minutes to ‘spare,’ there was plenty of time for her to redo it. By the time she got done, I still had 20 minutes to spare. I was going to take some time to pick up a lime green table cloth from the party/paper section as I needed a lime table cloth and a yellow center piece of something for my daughter’s birthday party the next day, but I decided I would come back after I got my daughter where she needed to be. I laughed out loud all the way home. I told God that thing was hilarious! I also thanked Him for speaking to me and helping me avoid a prom disaster for my teenage daughter.
Kristina Seymour loves to encourage and equip women through the Word and through community. She is the author of The Warrior Mom Handbook, The Warrior Mom Leadership Manual, and The Warrior Wife Handbook; they are available at Amazon.com. Kristina's Bible studies are for women who desire to live by faith in the midst of their everyday lives. She has learned that women can't survive on caffeine and animal crackers alone; women in the Word and in community are united and able to stand firm. To learn more about Kristina, please visit her recently founded Share & Company Publishing House http://seymourkristina.wix.
Originally published Tuesday, 17 May 2016.
SHARE
