For 63 years I lived in the Chicago metropolitan area and was accustomed to every possible convenience: endless shopping options, museums, convention centers, sports arenas, plentiful public transportation, theaters, and more. Life was fast-paced, if not sometimes over-full.

Then Nate and I relocated to a very small town in southwest Michigan, and a much simpler life came along with our move. He barely had time to adjust before he had to move again, but this time it was to a paradise unlike anything we’d known on earth. He had to leave me behind, though, and I’m still a resident of that tiny Midwestern town.

Small towns may not have the options of giant cities, but they do have their perks. Today I took advantage of one of them, pulling off the road in response to a sign inviting me to help myself to some blooming daffodils. An old-fashioned flower cart with cheery yellow wheels stood by itself, loaded with jonquils, daffodils, and hyacinth. The sign read, “SELF SERVE” for $1 a bunch. A slotted metal box directed my deposit, and I folded several dollars into the opening.

Buying gorgeous flowers on an honor system? Only in a small town.

Later a friend told me about the trusting woman behind the flower cart, a person who has similar carts in multiple locations throughout the area. She owns a flower farm out in the country and shares excess blooms with the public each year.

Looking through my camera I was struck by the beauty in the frame, not just the flowers themselves but the invitation to help myself, no questions asked.

During Holy Week we’re thinking about all Jesus had to go through to secure salvation for us, and the bottom line is much like the action of removing flowers from the cart: we have to reach out and take what’s being offered. I could drive past those flowers every day, admiring their beauty but never stopping to bring some home with me. If I don’t pull over, get out of the car, and make a personal choice, they’ll never be mine.

God extends his offer to everyone passing by and sincerely hopes each one of us will choose him. And though I was instructed to put dollar bills into the lock-box for my flowers, God asks nothing of us. Jesus already paid the bill, and the gift he extends to us cost him a sum we could never provide through our own effort.

Free to us, it cost Jesus everything.

And one last note. Although flower carts like the one I saw today might be found in small towns where buyers are faithful to the honor system, salvation is freely available all over the place: in giant cities, in rural areas, and everywhere in between.

“Let the one who wishes take the free gift of the water of life.” (Revelation 22:17)