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"You know how three weeks ago I asked you to speak about your trip to Mexico? Well, could you talk about flowers instead?"

It was only 24 hours before I was to speak at a Mother-Daughter banquet. I cringed. I knew nothing about flowers. My meditation time tripled the next morning.

I cried out to God. What could I say about flowers, for heaven's sake? And how could the topic be changed at the last minute? I had wanted to be inspirational and knowledgeable when I spoke and I was looking forward to speaking about my favorite subject -- Mexico -- my favorite place on the planet. And now I had to speak about flowers! There had to be a reason.

God was more than gracious. During my quiet time that morning I remembered the beautiful orchids growing wild in the jungles. I recalled walking to my preaching assignments in the Guatemalan jungle and seeing breathtaking visions of the most exquisite flowers one could imagine. I'd have to sneak that into my talk.

Then I recalled words that my mother had told me umpteen times when I was young -- blossom into a beautiful flower no matter where you are, no matter who you are with, and no matter what the situation -- an extended version of Dr. Norman Vincent Peale's famous "Bloom Where You Are Planted" sentiment. I would make my speech around this point.

My Bible reading was about trusting God and being a child of God. A topic of flowers had reduced me to a fearful child and now the answer lay in scripture. God must be wanting to talk through me, I decided.

I ventured out with my six-year-old daughter and found the church in the small town about fifty miles away. We walked in and people welcomed us warmly.

The hall was decorated, the tables set beautifully, and several ladies had poems and readings about flowers. The meal was delicious and served by several men who were ready to give us anything we needed. Dessert came and suddenly my stomach was in my knees as I quivered and wondered if I was prepared. Would I stumble over my words? Would I make sense? What was my point anyway? And where was my cheat sheet index card?

I was introduced and I smiled as I silently asked the Holy Spirit to use my mouth as a vessel. I knew I wasn't really there to talk about flowers. I was suddenly excited to have the mystery revealed to me, too.

I shared about the Mexican orchids and told funny things that had happened to me as a missionary. The audience was enthusiastic. I shared about moving to a new place where I was a fish out of water. I saw understanding nods. I shared the theme my mother had planted in my brain and the thought that I would somehow bloom no matter where I was. I saw several women smiling and one young woman crying.

Then I started to cry. Just a little cry came out, but no one could miss it. I stopped. I had to get a hold of myself.

"I always do this when I talk about my mother. It's not that she's bad, it's that I miss her so terribly much." That was the wrong thing to say. Another cry came out of my well-trained, experienced mouth. I couldn't believe it. It was against the rules of speech etiquette. Well, this was probably going to be my last speech anyway.

I got a hold of myself and continued. "Her motto lifted me up many times during those first years here." I shared about the tulips we discovered when the snow finally started to melt and how I took it as a sign of hope. A sign that God was with me.

The speech went very well after all. I finished to enthusiastic women on their feet applauding. Maybe my speaking career wasn't over. I sat down and said a hundred prayers of thanksgiving.

Then I felt a tug on my arm.

"I needed to hear what you were saying tonight. Thank you so much!" The young woman who earlier had tears in her eyes shared with me about moving here from a metropolitan area a few months earlier to be with her fiance. Although she loved him dearly, she couldn't decide if she would be able to live in such a small, rural community so far from her home. That morning she had told her fiance she would have to think about it. She felt she received her answer from my message of hope.

I hugged her and held her hand. I told her that I was not to be thanked and that I had nothing to do with this. I shared about the change in topic and the strange turn of events. We smiled as we considered that she was probably the reason why.

The Holy Spirit works in mysterious ways. And great and wondrous will those mysteries be to those who are open to them!