They do not labor or spin.

Reading and journalling, I sat in waiting for a very dear friend. The coffee shop quiet, with but a few customers, my table small and crowded by empty seats.
The words on the page resonated with me. Here was depicted a story of a young girl, never getting to play the damsel in distress. Her Barbie-esque neighbor friend, always chosen to be the beauty, and so she was always left to rescue her with the boys. Damaged from never being "the beauty" the young girl, now a woman, recalls this story for a friend with tears. Her friend looks at her, and tells her "I want you to ask Jesus to show you your beauty."

You know, I've never done that. Is my immediate reaction.
I've cried in anguish, I've tried to hide, I've made large efforts to come across as, seem, or feel beautiful, but I've never asked to simply see.
With great hesitancy, I finally asked, at the same time confessing my lack of trust. My fears that I will ask, and see very little beauty, and be devastated.
But I know Jesus is bigger than this.

Fast forward to only an hour or two later. Chatting on the phone with a dear friend, she suddenly blurts "you know Laur, whenever I see lilies, or think of them..whenever there are lilies, I think of you." Tears welled, I thanked her, "you have no idea how special that is."

Lilies are a flower immensly treasured in my heart. Christ taught me a life-shaping lesson on dependence, using lilies. And later, he taught me of beauty:
Jesus saying so gently, "you are fussing over your hair, over the shape of your face, and the way you look...stop. Come with me." He leads me to a breathtaking array of flowers, but in particular, a delicate lily. "Look at this flower, study it my dear. Look how utterly beautiful it is! It does not try....why do you?"

Thank you, my friend, for reminding me. Thank you that you will continue to show me how special and radiant you have made me.