Grace

Our yard is filled with an abundance of flowers. Many roses that have not bloomed once in the four years we have lived here. Wild flowers. Bluebonnets that I seeded a year or two ago in faith. A big stand of delphinium? How the heck did that happen? I didn't plant them. I almost pulled them out a month ago when I was reclaiming a grassy, weed filled bed to be used for edibles. Something caused me to pause. A distraction? A guardian angel?

Another plant with silvery green pointy foliage was also about to be yanked. I left it to hit the kitchen or work on church emails or something after only tossing a couple or three. Next day I returned to the bed and found the "weed" with a weird head appearing on subtle stem. Curiosity caused me to leave it be, since there were plenty of other weeds I clearly recognized, like wild mustard and ragweed, that could be attacked in my ten minutes of outdoor, backyard meditation.

A couple of days later I went outside to be greeted by the most whimsical, gaudy, salmon pink pom-pom flower you have every seen! A poppy! I never planted poppies. Several places in the yard, scattered here and there, those silvery green, sharp-toothed leaves popped up, unexpectedly, with no effort on my part, bringing fluorescent delight to parts of my yard I never noticed!

Volunteer tomato plants are emerging around the perimeter of the chicken yard fence, which is sturdy enough to hold onto pine needles, leaf debris and soil, mixed together with a little free fertilizer, thank you, lady hens.

Sometimes life is so hard, so demanding, I feel alone and afraid.

Then these crazy flowers and veggies throw themselves before my face as if to say, "Look! Look! We know how much you needed a smile and a reminder! Hang in there! You are NOT alone! Get It? I mean, really? What more do we need to do?"

And then a friend will call. A hug will be given at just the right time. Kids will offer me the gift of themselves and all of a sudden, courage wells up, and once again, there is enough.