Skip to main content

Bloom Where You're Planted. A Free Short Story

 




Odette sank into one of her mother's creaky wooden kitchen chairs and sighed. "Sometimes I just don't understand people."

Her mom smiled sympathetically as she turned the kettle on. "Nasty customers again?"

"Yup. And there seem to be more and more of them these days. For every nice customer, there seem to be five rude ones. I wish they'd leave their bad attitudes at home or send someone else to do their shopping."

Odette's mom took down a couple of sunny yellow teacups and poured water into the round teapot. "It certainly sounds like you need a cup of tea. And a slice of apple pie."

"Sounds wonderful." Odette's eyes brightened. "There's nothing like your apple pie to cheer a person up."

The two women sat companionably at the table. Odette put the day's troubles out of her mind, and they chatted about other things.

When it was time for her to leave though, her mother suggested they have a quick tour of her garden. "There's something I want to show you."

She led Odette around the side of the house to the spot where she kept her rubbish bin. A clump of nasturtium plants were doing everything in their power to brighten up the neglected corner. "They just came up on their own." She chuckled. "Such determined little plants. I thought of them at once when you spoke of your troubles at work."

Odette looked puzzled. "How so?"

"Well, the nasturtium plants are going ahead and blooming right here where they found themselves. They didn't choose this situation, but this is where they are, and they're making the best of it."

"Bloom where you're planted." Odette laughed softly. "Thanks Mom. I get it. And from now on when I have to deal with a grumpy customer, I'll do my best to bloom. With God's help of course."

Odette's mom hugged her tight. Then she stooped and picked a posy of nasturtiums for her daughter.


***



In real life, in my garden :)

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Conversation. A Free Short Story

  The Conversation  Gavin was so absorbed in his book, that he barely noticed that the train had stopped at a station. "Mind if I sit here?" He looked up. A young woman with friendly freckles across her nose and wide brown eyes stood in the aisle. He nodded, then smiled faintly and she quickly stowed her large backpack. "I'm Sybil." The young woman offered. "Thanks." "No problem. Travelling to Barton?"  "Nope. It's Dunmore I'm headed for. You?" "Same." Gavin was cautious. He wasn't sure he felt like a chatty companion. He'd been looking forward to finishing his book. It had hooked him from the first chapter. But thankfully, Sybil didn't bubble on. She just smiled before taking her own book out.  Gavin went back to his reading, not without noticing that it was a Bible that Sybil had opened. Unusual.   Sybil glanced towards him. She liked to study people, and would often strike up a conversation in the ho...

Rapture Collection.

  Rapture Collection Dear Readers, Given the urgency of the times, I felt it on my heart to write this post. I have written several stories with a Rapture message. Below are links to three of them. You will find other references to the Rapture, or the great snatching away of the Bride, throughout the blog. I will also include a link to my testimony. Today is the day to repent and to call on Jesus to save you. With much love and prayers, Alison Waiting A Reason To Clean The Last Reminder My Testimony  (Scroll to view. I titled it, He Stooped Down.)  💕🙏🩷

Not Much Time. Free Short Story.

  Years have gone by, yet the phone call still plays clear as a bell in my mind. "He needs to come home. Please tell him. There isn't much time." The thin, frail voice of the caller lent weight to the urgency of her call. No, there couldn't have been much time. "Daddy, a lady called. An old lady. She said there isn't much time." I tiptoed up to his armchair. I spoke softly, hesitantly. I was only a child, and I knew nothing of his past. "She says, she says, you must go home." "No!" The armchair shook with the force of his rage. "No! And don't talk to that woman again."  No further calls came from the frail-voiced lady. At least, not that I know of. *** Daddy was nearing the end. The end of a long, long battle. I was in my forties, married, and with children of my own. "Who was she Daddy?" I asked gently, hoping with God's help to bring him to a place of peace and forgiveness. But his face tightened and he t...