Each of us is a flower, with a delicate beauty uniquely our own. We may be like sunflowers, turning always towards the light.

May our lives bloom like the flowers.

We may be like night-blooming cereus, only displaying our fragrant petals when it is dark and we think no one can see.

May our lives bloom like the flowers.

We may be hothouse flowers, far from our native lands, cautiously tended within a harsh and unfamiliar climate.

May our lives bloom like the flowers.

We may be gray-headed like dandelions, eager to launch the new generation with the first strong gust of wind: past our own bright youth, but ready to pass our wisdom on in precious gossamer-carried seeds.

May our lives bloom like the flowers.

Some of us, sometimes, spring up overnight and fade in the hot glare.

May our lives bloom like the flowers.

Some of us, sometimes, are roses, slowly assembling petal after tightly-wrapped petal, and revealing our full glory only when everything is in place.

May our lives bloom like the flowers.

Sometimes we are roadside weeds, loveliness bursting improbably from the dust and debris.

May our lives bloom like the flowers.

May we offer our beauty with the simplicity of flowers, expecting no recognition, hoping for nothing, giving out of what we are, and knowing it is enough.

May our lives bloom like the flowers.

Amen.