The Red Geraniums

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As Kim and I arrived at the small cabin by the lake in the Adirondacks that her parents have owned since 1986, immediately things felt very different. Since 1986, we’ve not missed a summer at “the cabin.” Our kids have not missed a summer there.  When they were younger, they sometimes spent up to three weeks with grandma and grandpa swimming, boating, hiking, etc. Each time we arrived, there was always lots of excitement as we drove down the long driveway towards the lake. Usually grandma and grandpa would come out to meet us; they were as excited as the kids were that, for at least a time, we would all be together at “the cabin.”  And welcoming us from the flower boxes under the window, there were always red geraniums.

This year was different.  When Kim and I arrived at the cabin, it was quiet. It had not yet been opened for the summer. For the first time in over 30 years, mom and dad (grandma and grandpa) were not there. They had not been well enough to make the trip to “the cabin.” Thus, no one came out to greet us. We had to unlock the door ourselves. And most strikingly, there were no red geraniums in the flower boxes under the window.  At that moment, we knew life had changed for us as a family. We felt like an era had come to an end; at least the first part of the movie was over. And, for the next week and a half while we were there, I found myself looking at those flower boxes, longing for the red geraniums. 

Within the week, Kim got a call that her mom had taken a turn for the worse. She quickly packed her bags and left for South Carolina. Within a few days, mom passed from this life to the next. The mom and grandma who was always so filled with excitement and energy left us. The woman who herself might be described as a red geranium, for she was always filled with so much life and color, passed on. And, at least from our perspective here on earth, it’s as if we are left looking at an empty flower box.

Yet, we know that is only part of the story.  Although our flower box here on earth might be empty, there is another flower box we might say that has been filled. For today “mom,” “grandma,” “Nellie,” is as alive and vibrant as ever—a flower that will never again feel weakness or pain or any of the suffering that this world inflicted upon her.  The red geranium has been planted in the presence of Jesus her Savior to live forever in a Kingdom that will never fade.  Today she is a flower that is declaring the glory and the praises of her Savior as never before.

The Bible says, “For the perishable must clothe itself with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality. When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true: ‘Death has been swallowed up in victory.’” (1 Corinthians 15:53-54 – NIV)

I’m so thankful for the many years the red geraniums welcomed us to “the cabin.” I’m more thankful for the time we had with “mom,” “grandma,” “Nellie”—our living red geranium. Most of all, I’m thankful for the hope that we have through Jesus Christ our Lord—a hope that causes us to look beyond the empty flower boxes of this life to the fullness of life that lies ahead for all who will believe.

Thanks for reading. Have a great day.

Pastor Tim Harris