In a quiet little greenhouse at the edge of town, there grew a single pink poinsettia unlike any of the others.
She wasn’t the brightest red or the tallest or the most perfect in shape. But she had something the others didn’t—she
had grown through a season of storms.
When the winds first blew hard, the little poinsettia feared she might break. When the days grew unexpectedly cold,
she worried she wouldn’t bloom at all. And when the shadows lasted longer than the sun,
she wondered if she’d ever feel warm again.
But slowly—quietly—she kept reaching.
Reaching for the light even when it was faint.
Reaching upward even when the soil felt heavy.
Reaching, simply because hope whispered that she wasn’t done yet.
One morning, after many difficult days, the gardeners walked by and gasped. There she was—soft pink petals
opening like a gentle exhale. Not bold, not loud, but full of a rare kind of beauty: the beauty that comes
from surviving what once felt impossible.
The gardener smiled and said,
“Pink poinsettias bloom to honor the tenderness of a heart that has loved deeply, and the courage of
a heart learning to love again.”
And so this pink poinsettia became a symbol—not of perfection, but of resilience.
A reminder that healing is not sudden. Growth is not linear. And even after seasons of loss, change, or
uncertainty… blossoms still come.
Today, this pink poinsettia is gifted to you.
May it remind you that your story is still unfolding.
That your strength is real, even on quiet days.
That softness is not weakness.
And that, just like this bloom, you are growing through seasons that would have defeated a lesser heart.
May its petals be a gentle promise:
You are not alone. You are becoming. And there is still so much beauty ahead.
