Still Small Voice



by K. Vera (IT: Software Artist)

God sometimes has an interesting way of communicating. Firstly, he often speaks to us in the language of our own hearts, and I have learned from experience that it can be difficult to translate. Also, although he could roar and force people to hear Him, he normally addresses us with extreme gentleness. And when we aren’t in the habit of listening, he will sometimes make a point of capturing our attention so that we’ll be prepared for that still, small voice.

This is a story of how God captured my attention with flowers.

In the fall of 2002 I whimsically said to my husband, “You never send me flowers anymore.”

“Do you want me to send flowers to your work?” he asked.

“Not all the time,” I said. “But sometimes it might be nice.”

Within days he sent a bouquet to my work with a card that read, “Just because.”

The IT department was in the farthest corner of the office, and as I brought the flowers from the reception desk to my cubicle I passed many curious co-workers.

“Is it your birthday?”

“Is it your anniversary?”

“Are you pregnant?!” they asked.

“No,” I said. “No and no. It’s just because. That happens, right?”

When my husband came to pick me up from work and saw the flowers, he was disappointed because he had ordered a more elaborate arrangement. He called the florist to have the mistake corrected, and the next day I received flowers again.

Same arrangement. Same card, though it wasn’t quite as charming the second time, and more co-worker curiosity.

It was easy enough to prove that it was neither my birthday nor our anniversary, but I could not seem to quell the growing rumor that I was pregnant. No one was buying the “just because” thing. And to make matters worse, when my husband saw the flowers he said, “This still isn’t what I ordered.” He called the florist again to complain and demanded a refund.

That’s when getting flowers at work officially stopped being fun.

On the third day I received a lovely bouquet of fall flowers in a basket. The card read, “Thank you for saving us,” and was unsigned.

I called my husband, thinking maybe the card was a mistake. But after giving him the name and address of the florist on the envelope, he assured me that the flowers were not from him.

The envelope had given me a clue though. The day before I had fixed the computers at my uncle’s dental office which was near the florist’s address. I called the dental office manager to ask about the flowers. She laughed and said that they had sent them as a thank you for fixing the computers, and my uncle thought the cryptic and anonymous message would be funny.

“It is especially funny,” I told her. “Because this is the third day in a row I have gotten flowers, and now all of my co-workers think I am pregnant.”

The next day I received an arrangement of exotic wildflowers that stood at least four feet tall. My husband had placed the order with a new florist. Though the flowers were lovely, I decided that getting flowers at work was not romantic and asked my husband not to send them anymore.

At this point even my boss was asking if I had any “good news.” I sighed and told him that you have to get flowers five days in a row to be pregnant.

That was on a Friday. On Monday, an intern who had been out the week before brought me a small potted plant.

“Happy Boss’s Day!” he said.

My heart skipped a beat as my own words came back to me, “Five days in a row means you’re pregnant.” And a still, small voice said, “Congratulations, you’re having a baby.”

During the previous week I had gone from being flattered, to embarrassed, to annoyed. When I held the small plant that no one else saw, I was overwhelmed. And when it sunk in later that God had used flowers to get my attention so he could be the first to officially congratulate me on being pregnant, I felt amazed, and humbled, and loved.

Eight months later I gave birth to a healthy baby boy.