Daisies have always been my favorite flowers. A daisy is not a serious or somber sort of flower.  They are cheerful and lighthearted and happy.  Flowers of family and friends and fun.  They make me smile.

Maybe daisies have a special place in my heart because on my thirteenth birthday my mother gave me a bunch of daisies.  Every year after that, until the year she died, there were daisies on my birthday.  Not always a bouquet, sometimes something with a daisy on it or just a card with daisies on it, but always there were daisies to mark my day.
A daisy seems a young flower, nothing old or stuffy about it.  Whatever their color, they are dressed in frilly petal skirts that wiggle in the breeze.  They stand tall, reaching up to the sun, waving at the clouds.
In a storm they may bend their heads and droop a bit or even lay down flat.  They may be battered or a little beat up but they are resilient.  With the new day they stretch up tall, looking to the light in the sky.  And again they do their happy dance, following the sun, east to west.  Not aspiring to be anything other than what they were created to be.  Content just being daisies in the sun.
At the end of their season in the sun their blooms fade and they shed their pretty petals and their seeds fall to the ground and they wait. They snuggle under the soil during the short days of the cold wet season waiting patiently for the sun.  As the days get longer and the earth warms they reach up and greet the sun and are renewed.
Once again they put on their frilly petal skirts and look up, waving at the clouds, doing their happy dance in the breeze, following the sun.
                            Psalm 100:1-2
I wonder if I could be more like a daisy?  More lighthearted and cheerful, content being who I was created to be–me.  Weathering storms  following  the Son.  Snug and safe through the cold wet season covered with His love.  Patiently waiting, greeting the Son, and being renewed.
Just wondering… 

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