Do I believe in miracles?

Of course I do.

Especially the small ones.

More importantly, I believe there are times in one's life when the unexplained and the unexpected merge together, and when they do, they do so for a special reason.

My mother, who passed away in 2007, was a master floral designer. I cannot recall one flower which she did not cherish with the exception of "that dreadful purple liatris." But she dearly loved ranunculus. Specifically, she loved white ranunculus. Why? I have no idea, but she held the creamy buttercuplike flower in high esteem, especially when it came to bridal bouquets. And so, when my daughter gave me her blessings to design her wedding bouquet, I inquired of our local florist if among the delicate white hydrangea, orchids, lizanthus, Queen Anne's Lace and stephanotis, she would be so kind to add a bit of white ranunculus.

The florist was kind but adamant that my request could not be realized.

"White ranunculus in July is stringy. Awful stuff. No. You can't count on it to be beautiful that time of the year. There will not be any ranunculus available for your daughter's bridal bouquet, I can assure you. I wouldn't think of ordering it and taking a chance on it - especially for a bridal bouquet."

Although I was disappointed, I completely understood. Afterall, my mother had been a floral designer for many years, and I surely knew the hazards of ordering flowers that were not considered "in season." Besides, I also knew that my daughter's bridal bouquet would indeed be lovely with or without the ranunculus - especially with its stem carefully wrapped in the handkerchief that my mother had given me for my own wedding thirty-two years ago.

Three days before the wedding, I drove into town to complete some last minute errands. Our daughter's fiance's family and friends - all from Great Britain - would be returning to our home after the service that Friday, and I wanted to be sure that I had everything that was needed to make their visit enjoyable and memorable.

I had no intentions of stopping at the florist's shoppe; I had already paid for the wedding flowers. But as I neared the establishment, I found myself turning into its parking lot. Once inside the quaint store, I found the florist going over my order. We exhanged pleasantries, and just as I was about to ask her if there were any problems or if she had any questions, the front door opened, and a delivery man from Nordlies, a well-known floral wholesaler in Michigan entered, juggling two large flat boxes teeming with beautiful white flowers.

I smiled - in memory of my mother more than anything else - for the Nordlie truck had been a huge part of her floral business and our lives as well. But my smile turned to laughter when the florist said, "Diane, you timed your visit just right; these are the flowers for your daughter's wedding."

I started to take a step closer to view their beauty, when the florist exclaimed incredulously, "Where did the white ranunculus come from? I didn't order them! Did you order them, Diane?"

Friends who know me well, know that I am seldom rendered speechless in any given situation. But it took me a few moments to gather my thoughts and respond. And when I did, it was to simply say, "Lisa! I don't have a florist's license! How could I have ordered the ranunculus?"

"Well, Diane, that is some of the most beautiful ranunculus I have ever seen, and I've been in this business a long time. I didn't order it. You didn't order it. But it is going into your daughter's bridal bouquet, that's for sure."

And it did.

Rachel's bridal bouquet was beyond beautiful; it was breathtakingly beautiful.

It was as beautiful as if her grandmother had crafted it herself - stem by stem - as she stood by the kitchen sink often into the late night hours - just as she had so many times for so many brides...

A beloved grandmother's gift to her equally beloved granddaughter.

Do I believe in miracles?

Of course I do...especially the small ones...