A soft summer shower came unexpectedly this afternoon, and with it came a coolness we had no experienced in many days. I went outside and walked to my wildflower garden. As I stood looking at the beautiful blooms in an array of colors, I thought of my God and His artistry. The striking beauty found in each flower never ceases to amaze me.
When I was young, my friends and I would pick daisies, and as we pulled the petals from the flowers we would repeat, "He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not." All the while we wondered if the last petal we pulled would end with "he loves me" or with "he loves me not.
As I lifted my head to breathe in the coolness of a soft after the rain breeze, I had a desire to pick a daisy. Having the flower in my hand, I examined its perfection. I stroked the soft petals and began, "He loves me." I only had to pull one petal. I knew every petal would bring the same words, "He loves me,He loves me, He loves me."
For with God, there is no "He loves me not."