He climbed a stepladder and cut large boughs and handed them down to me. Minutes later, as I lifted the last armload into my car trunk, I said, “Sir, you’ve made the mother of a bride very happy today.”

“No, Ma’am,” he said. “You don’t understand what’s happening here.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“You see, my wife of 67 years died on Monday. On Tuesday, I received friends at the funeral home and on Wednesday. . .” he paused. I saw tears welling up in his eyes. “On Wednesday, I buried her.” He looked away. “On Thursday, most of my out-of-town relatives went back home, and yesterday, my children left.”

I nodded.

“This morning,” he continued, “I was sitting in my den crying out loud. I miss her so much. For the last 16 years, as her health got worse, she needed me. But now it seems nobody needs me. This morning I cried aloud, ‘Who needs an 86-year-old worn-out man? Nobody!’ I began to cry louder. ‘Nobody needs me!’ About that time, you knocked, and said, ‘Sir, I need you.’”

I stood there with my mouth wide open.

He asked, “Are you an angel? It appeared that way as the light shone around your head into my dark living room.” I assured him I was not an angel.

He smiled. “Do you know what I was thinking when I handed you those magnolias?”

“No,” I replied.

“I decided I am needed. My flowers are needed. Why, I might have a flower ministry! I could give them to everyone! Some caskets at the funeral home have no flowers. People need flowers at times like that and I have lots of them. They’re all over the backyard! I can give them to hospitals, churches – all sorts of places. You know what I’m going to do?  I’m going to serve the Lord until the day He calls me home!”

I drove back to the church, filled with wonder. On Patsy’s wedding day, if anyone had asked me to encourage someone who was hurting, I would have said, “Forget it! It’s my only daughter’s wedding, for goodness’ sake! There is no way I can minister to anyone today.”

But, God found a way, through the dead flowers.

I spent the week before my daughter’s June wedding running last-minute trips to the caterer, florist, tuxedo shop and the church, about forty miles away. As happy as I was that Patsy was marrying a good Christian young man, I felt laden with responsibilities as I watched my budget dwindle. There were so many details, so many bills, and so little time. My son, Jack, was away at college, but said he would be there to walk his younger sister down the aisle, taking the place of his dad who had died a few years before. He teased Patsy, saying he’d wanted to give her away since she was about three years old!

To save money, I gathered blossoms from several friends who had large magnolia trees. The luscious, creamy-white blooms and slick green leaves would make beautiful arrangements against the rich dark wood inside the church.

The night before the wedding, we banked the podium area and choir loft with magnolias. As we left, just before midnight, I was tired but satisfied this would be the best wedding any bride had ever had! The music, the ceremony, the reception, and especially the flowers, would be remembered for years.

The big day arrived – the busiest day of my life – and while her bridesmaids helped Patsy dress, her fiancé, Tim, walked with me to the sanctuary for a final check. When we opened the door and felt a rush of hot air, I almost fainted, and then I saw them. All the beautiful white magnolia flowers were black. An electrical storm during the night had knocked out the air conditioning system, and on that hot summer day, the flowers had wilted and died.

Tim turned to me and asked, “Edna, can you get more flowers?” I mumbled, “Sure,” as he be-bopped down the hall to put on his cuff links.

I knew I didn’t have time to drive back to our hometown, gather more flowers, and return in time for the wedding. Alone in the large sanctuary, I looked up at the dark wooden beams in the arched ceiling. “Lord,” I prayed, “please help me. I don’t know anyone in this town. Help me find someone willing to give me flowers in a hurry!” I scurried out praying for four things: the blessing of white magnolias, courage to find them in an unfamiliar yard, safety from any dog that may bite my leg, and a nice person who would allow me to remove the blossoms from their tree.

As I left the church, I saw magnolia trees in the distance. I approached a house and knocked on the door. An older man answered. When I stated my plea, the man beamed, “I’d be happy to!”