A bouquet serves as a reminder of the beauty that can always grow, provided the right time and attention.
Courtesy of Sarah Shrader
One day early last year, I received flowers at work. But no one knew. When I went to pick them up from the front desk, I took them immediately to my car.
And guys, I was so mad.
You see, no one at work even knew yet that my husband had left just a few months before. No one knew that I was putting on a show and smiling all day long yet crying myself to sleep every night. I had hidden it all from them – from the world. I was simply just trying to make it through, day by day.
And then, way too soon, walked in this man who was not supposed to be there yet. No way. My husband had only been gone a few months – I was NOT ready for someone else. The pain was still too raw, the healing barely begun, the past being questioned, the future unknown. Certainly, there was no room for someone new.
I told this man to run, that I was not ready. He told me I was worth waiting for. I told him he was wasting his time. He said it was his to waste – and it would be worth it.
I pushed and pushed and pushed him away, finding every single tiny fault that I could in him.
But still on that day, he sent me flowers with a note that read, “STILL NOT RUNNING.”
Not only did those flowers not make it to my desk last year, but I yelled at him for having the audacity to send them to me! That evening, he came by and — while getting an earful from me about how he was not allowed to send me flowers and he needed to run — he calmly disposed of the flowers for me.
I told him that I was broken into pieces, shattered and not yet put back together. That for his sake, he had to go. That I wasn’t worth it at that time.
He told me that I was, that he would wait. But eventually, he wanted to be able to buy me flowers. I told him if he was around next year on that date, he could buy me flowers.
For the next year — 365 days — he waited. But he did so much more than just wait.
While I went on and on about the failures of my marriage, he not only listened but he encouraged me to feel, cry and heal. He, too, had been in my shoes and knew the depth of the pain.
But he was too soon, so I told him to run.
In sweatpants and a hoodie with makeup running down my cheeks and my hair in a messy bun crying about another man, he would look me in the eyes and tell me just how beautiful I was – both on the inside and out.
But he was too soon, so I told him to run.
When it all seemed like too much, he would grab my hand and we would pray – sometimes just to get me through the day.
Eventually, I invited him to my church. He questioned it — “um, am I allowed?” (as in, to be seen with you in person). I told him he was silly, and everyone is allowed at church. Every service I have attended since then, he has been there.
But he was still too soon, so I told him to run.
When I stressed over things I needed (or wanted) done at the house, he asked if he could help. From painting my bedroom to “make it mine” to a raised garden to mounted bars for Reagan to flip on to something as simple (but longed for) as a tennis ball hanging in my garage so I knew how far to park my car, he always came through. Partially, I think, it was because I would actually let him come around. Ha!
But, again, he was too soon, so I told him to run.
In doing all these things around the house, the girls met him as our fix-it guy – they just didn’t realize what all he came to fix. Watching him joke around with my babies and click so instantly — not as the guy potentially seeing mom, but as the guy helping us out, whew — that was something a Mama’s heart just cannot explain, especially after fearing what that would or could ever look like. My girls may have fallen for him sooner than I did.
But he was too soon, so I told him to run.
In the midst of sorrow and healing, he made me belly laugh constantly. Silly little things or hilariously huge things, he reminded me not only how to smile again, but that it was not only ok to feel happiness and joy but that I was worthy of it.
But he was too soon, so I told him to run.
If I was overwhelmed with it all – divorce, work, parenting, judgements — he would load us up in the car and we would wing it – go somewhere, anywhere – just get away on an adventure, a break.
But he was too soon, so I told him to run.
He waited. He held me. He fixed my house and helped Band-Aid my heart. I built up walls of fear… he slowly pulled them back piece by piece and layer by layer.
He told me how proud he was of me for handling so many things on my own. He told me how amazing I am at my job. He constantly reminded me how spectacular of a mother I am.
He quoted scriptures from the Bible and sent me songs to listen to that I would use at times to literally just survive the next five minutes when I wasn’t sure that I could. He brought laughter, cheer and happiness back into my life.
He made me believe in myself: who I am and what I bring to the table. He reminded me that my past doesn’t define me, and my future can be full of whatever I want to make it. He showed my babies that love does not divide, it multiplies – they don’t have to choose, they can literally have it all. But, of all the things he brought, what meant the most to me out of everything is that he never left.
He didn’t run.
He was too soon. I have no idea why he showed up when he did. I have literally questioned, yelled and thanked God multiple times throughout all of this about the timing, to which I can only hear God speak softly to me, “not your timing, but Mine.”
While I have no idea what the future holds, I am absolutely sure of God and His hold on my future.
And so, one year later to the date, mixed in with a few tennis balls representing the one hanging in my garage showing me just how far to park my car in – I received a beautiful bouquet of flowers with the exact same note, “STILL NOT RUNNING”.
Only this time, they actually made it to my desk.
Happy Birthday, Lee. I am so very thankful that you didn’t run.
Sarah (Pitson) Shrader was born and raised in Lima. She is a Lima Central Catholic and Tiffin University graduate. Sarah is a full-time working mama who enjoys writing about her somewhat crazy, always adventurous life as a mother. She lives in Bath Township with her daughters and writing inspirations, Maylie and Reagan.
