There’s no telling where they might crop up. One day there’s nothing but last year’s brown grass, the next day delicate beauty in miniature appears with a few green grass blades on the side.
I had nothing to do with their planting or placement, and they don’t seem to be on any particular blooming schedule. But every Spring, they are the first flowers to adorn the yard.
They move me almost to tears every time they arrive, asking nothing of me but awareness and appreciation – and they would be beautiful without those. But my time on this earth would be so much the poorer if I didn’t see them at my feet. So I look for them, and I’m careful where I step. I don’t want to crush underfoot one of the wonders of the world.
I’m doing my best to do the same for the Spirit’s presence.
Letting go of what doesn’t matter: Assuming that beauty and holiness will be where I expect it.
Loving what does: The serendipitous.