Morning glories have always been my favorite flowers. They spread beauty and asked nothing more than to be allowed their time in the sun. Unlike the tulips or daffodils or roses my father planted, each flower lasted only a short time, fragile and precious. Yet each morning new flowers bloomed.
I never met Morning Glory Zell-Ravenheart. Never read her books, saw her speak at a conference, or even exchanged emails with her. But the beauty and love she spread touched my life in many ways.
A single, fragile blossom has left this world. But she left the seeds and buds of many more blossoms behind her.