In my early twenties, I managed one of my family’s stores. On slow days, or when I had downtime, I would visit a fellow shopkeeper across the street to shoot the breeze. He was a community member, about 25 years my senior, from a different generation, yet we enjoyed each other’s company and got along despite the differences. Our conversations would always start the same, “So, how’s business?”
As we grew more comfortable with each other, we covered an array of subjects such as politics, religion, and life. The more we spoke, the more I admired him, both for his knowledge and his insightful wisdom.
One day, I walked into his store, and announced that I had become engaged the night before. After a congratulatory hug, I shared the exciting details, then asked, “Joseph, if you could give me only one piece of advice to take into my marriage, what would it be?” And without missing a beat, came the surprising answer, “Every Friday, without fail, be sure to bring home an arrangement of flowers.”
It was a simple answer to a complex question and I suppose I looked puzzled. So, he continued, “Doing this will help you remember the value of three important things: Shabbat, Hashem’s beauty in nature and the love you feel for your wife.”
It wasn’t the answer I expected, so I changed the subject. However, later on, I found myself following his advice, if only because buying flowers seemed like the right thing to do. It became part of my Friday afternoon routine. I would buy them from street corner vendors, or I would chose a convenient flower shop on the way home. I adopted the habit and it stuck. I didn’t think much about why I was buying them, or my old friend’s advice, I just did it.
I am now approaching the age that my shopkeeper friend was when he planted this seed of advice in me, and I believe I finally see exactly what he meant. Over the last year, I find myself driving to the other side of town on Friday afternoons to pick up flowers—and it’s all starting to make sense.
I walk into the small flower shop and as the proprietors—a lovely husband and wife team—prepare my arrangement, we make small talk about how welcome this Shabbat will be after such a hectic work week. I am reminded of the tranquility and calm that the fast approaching Shabbat will bring, and I smile, realizing that my friend was right.
As the door closes behind me, I’m struck by the fragrant botanical scents, brilliant variety of colors and characteristics of the lush collection of flowers before me. Once again, the man was on the mark, I am reminded of Hashem’s beauty in nature.
As I inhale and savor the scent of my selection, I’m imagining the look on my wife’s face when she sees this week’s choice of flowers—and my friend’s advice becomes clear, for I remember again how much I love my wife.
It took nearly 25 years to understand, but now I know—sometimes it’s the simple things in life that can be the most extraordinary.q