Every Sunday, I took the kids to church, and some lovely people took my children for ninety minutes while my brain rested and my soul restored.

Off to the side of the sanctuary, I would often stare at the beautiful flowers arranged by the Flower Committee, a volunteer group of women who loved gardening and making arrangements. The arrangements were always a lovely focal point and, on some days, helped move the sermon along.

One Sunday during the summer, there were no flowers. In most circumstances, I would not have noticed, but on this Sunday morning, I did. And I missed seeing them. They had become part of my soul’s weekly healing without my realizing it.

My mother always had fresh flowers in the house. That could be where I learned it. A welcome, loving home has fresh flowers.

There were many volunteers and professionals that made for a meaningful service, but the flowers, well, they had a special meaning to me. They were the loving touch one might give another at the end of a hard week. Gentle. Present. Non-judgmental. Healing.

Sometimes it is the simple sharing of one’s passion or talents that makes a significant difference.

Never think that what you have to offer does not matter. Church staff keep the place running but without the gift of the Flower Committee, it would not have been the same.

Struggling with how what you have to offer might fit in? Let’s talk.

Mary