Blog 388 – 08.28.2016

Some years ago someone gave me a bookmark with a poem by Helen Steiner Rice that began:

“God hath not promised skies always blue,
Flower strewn pathways all our lives through…”

It was a lovely poem that went on to list what the poet believed God had promised instead. But I have experienced a life of flower strewn pathways. It always amazes me that in the most unexpected places I see flowers showing their pretty faces.

I imagine if some of my macho brothers read this they might remark, “That is so gay.” To that I’d say thank you for I have found most of my Gay brothers to be intelligent, well read and spoken and with a particular appreciation of art and beauty. I take it as a compliment to be so compared. One of the most macho men I ever knew, my dad, remarked several times in my hearing, “Give me my roses while I live, don’t wait until I die.” I think it was a line from a song that was popular when he was a young man. Was he ever surprised when I had a dozen roses sent to him for his birthday one year. Be careful what you ask for, somebody might be listening.

I have sent a request out to the Universe that when the time comes for me to end this particular adventure in space and time that I be allowed to go quickly and as painlessly as possible. I prefer a quick exit stage right, no lingering good-byes or long drawn out death watch for me. A stroke, heart attack, or a brief encounter with a speeding Mack truck, something quick that is my choice. As the Gambler in the Kenny Rogers’ song says, “The best that you can hope for is to die in your sleep.”

But back to the flowers. God in Miss Rice’s poem may not have promised flowers along the way but they have been there for me to encourage me along each step, I have gotten more than my share of roses, and daisies, and lilies along the way. I love the words of Jesus, “Behold the lilies of the field, they neither toll nor spin yet I tell you that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed such as one of these.” And they are scattered along our pathways like cheering fans urging us on to the finish line.

When I arrive at death if anyone takes note please don’t buy me any flowers but ever after when you see one stare it in the lovely face and say thank you for me for all the lovely flowers that have been strewn along my pathway all throughout my life.

Your friend and fellow traveller,
David White