Picking Daisies

I was reminded recently about something I used to do when I was younger with some girlfriends. Picking daisies. Not just picking them out of the ground, but picking each petal off. Sure, we would pick dandelions too and make a wish. But it always came back to picking daisies.

“He loves me… He loves me not.”

On repeat til petals ran out, we would try to decipher how our crushes felt about us by an age-old practice of flower fortune-telling.

He loves me. He loves me not.

That’s what the story recalled for me. The desired outcome of love… the sometimes sneaky way of trying to make it end the way we wanted once we figured out the numbers weren’t in our favor. Breaking petals in half, trying to skip ahead. Trying to do anything to earn his love. As confirmed by a flower we ruined. Were we really that crazy?

Then He reminded me. Ultimately, the most important person in my life, would always be a “He loves me.”

He loves me. He never loves me not.

Odd or even, start or finish. Whether I deserve it or don’t. He doesn’t change, and neither does His love. That’s what this is for. I’m not here to impress you or compete with you. I’m here to encourage… whether it’s one or 1,000. That’s for Him to decide. But He loves that one just as much as He loves that 1,000. So, I want to love that one too. I want to inspire you with hope; that if you don’t have a great love story like this for your own, you can. He thinks you’re dope. Yes, you. He’s crazy about you. Always has been, always will be.

Whether you call Him friend, dad, stranger…. or don’t call Him at all. He calls you His.  And…

He loves you.

He loves you.

He LOVES you.


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