When you think about it, broken flowers are extremely depressing. They reflect the death of relationships that once bloomed. They remind us of things we can no longer find reason to celebrate. They testify to every foot that has trampled on top of them. They bear the scars of every storm that has pounded them into the ground. They embody neglect, rejection, solitude, and hardship in their very beings; and, in their brokenness, they can only remind us of what they once were and what they should be.
 In the movie Broken Flowers, these images of brokenness are just what writer/director Jim Jarmusch brings to our attention. The interesting thing is that the broken flowers we see are not actually flowers; they are people—people who once lived lives in full bloom, people who once knew what it was like to live in the sunlight, people who exist and live but clearly thirst for more.
The main character of the movie is Don Johnston, a middle-aged bachelor whose Don Juan lifestyle has once again left him alone. He sits alone in his perpetually dark house. He falls asleep on his couch in the middle of the day. Every time he looks at the camera, his face is void of any expression. And, as far as we can see, he does not do anything but sit on his couch, watch TV, and sleep.
Enter a pink letter informing Johnston that a son he never knew he had may be looking for him. On the surface, Johnston could care less. His expression remains blank. He’d just as well assume the letter is a prank, throw it away, and go on with his life of sleeping and television. His neighbor Winston, however, thinks the letter is a sign, a sign that Johnston needs to actually get out and live instead of just sitting around.
From there, Winston comes up with plans to figure out who Johnston ’s son is. Winston gives Johnston instructions on what he has to do. Johnston says no. But then, even as Johnston tells Winston what a stupid idea it is, he finds himself doing just what Winston asked him to do—writing down past girlfriends, packing his bags to go on the trip he told Winston was out of the question, and off to visit his past and see what insight it might give to his present.
During his trip, Johnston visits four women he once dated. Each woman is very different, living in a different place, and living different life. In each of them, however, we encounter a similar sense that they too are not quite living the life that they should.
 The first woman is a closet organizer whose race car driver husband died in a car accident. She smiles and beams with energy, but her energy seems false, clinging to what was but no longer is, living a life that seems to find excitement in the moment but fails to hold onto anything of much depth. The flowers Johnston brings to her are almost out of place, a treat she hasn’t had in a long time; and, as she puts them in a vase, we also get the impression that it has not only been a long time since she has gotten flowers, but also a long time since she felt anywhere close to living a life in full bloom herself.
For his second visit, Johnston drops in on an immaculate home in the elegant housing development of Pleasant Estates. Flowers bloom throughout the home, yet the life of the woman who lives there seems fake and she seems to know it. In an old picture that her husband pulls out at dinner, she looks alive. Yet, as Johnston looks across her immaculate table and around her house, the woman he sees now seems more like a lacquered rose no longer able to even drink the water that should give her life.
Johnston ’s third stop is at the office of an animal communicator. She fits Johnston in for a quick catch up. She enthusiastically tells him about her amazing gift and the new life it has given her. As she sends Johnston and his flowers away with not so subtle excuses to never see him again, however, it seems that she is just a bit to defensive against anything, even something as nice as a bouquet of flowers, that might intrude upon it. Although her life is not too abnormal, it is difficult not to wonder if she simply fills her life with the strangeness of blue and purple died carnations because she is too afraid she can’t handle a life of roses.
 Perhaps his shortest, the fourth stop that Johnston ’s makes is met with nothing but anger. The woman doesn’t want to see him, doesn’t see why in the world he would want to see her, and doesn’t even give him a chance to give her flowers. Even more than any of the other women, this woman exemplifies pain. Again, while Johnston may have once known her as a rose, the woman he now meets is so trampled and cut down that she comes off as no more than a barren patch of land.
Through most of his trip, Johnston remains as expressionless as before he left. He barely eats and does not even flinch when he gets beat up. Even at the end of the trip, he continues to tell Winston what a stupid idea the trip was; his life was just fine as is. But, like most people, his actions speak louder than his words. As a tear rolls down Johnston's cheek on the last stop of his trip, it tells us that, in one way or another, he cares about the brokenness of each woman he once knew, maybe wishes he could have made a difference in their lives. As Johnston runs down the street after a young man he just met, his legs reveal that as much as he has spent his life running from the connections of family, the connections and relationships he so avoided are something he truly desires.
 Just like the movie, this world is filled with many broken flowers. We have each felt broken, trampled, and wilted at some point in our lives. The good news is that, just like any flower, with the proper care we too can be restored to life. We can help each other to grow through our connections and relationships with each other. We can find meaning and grow ourselves through our relationships with those around us. And, just as Winston was there to push Johnston to not just exist but live, God is also there for us, fully aware that we have lives of great meaning and value to live, eager to send us of on a path to find them, and always there to provide us with exactly what we need to grow.
Whether we feel like a blooming rose or a mowed over dandelion, each of us has a life of purpose, value, and meaningful relationships to live. Like the pink letter Johnston receives, Broken Flowers simply pushes us to ask ourselves if we’ve let that life slip by, and if we have, to go out and find it.
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