He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set
eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from
beginning to end. Ecclesiastes 3:11
She leans over her windowsill and carefully counts twelve new
blooms as I braid her long, blond hair. Deep purple petals spread out from the
tiniest yellow centers. Every morning, she sings over them. The song varies day
to day, but it’s usually one she’s made up on her own. I tell her that her
voice will help her plant grow. I’m not even sure if that’s true, but my mom
told me something similar, and it’s stuck with me ever since. It seems like
something worth passing on. When I was her age I had an African violet, too. I lived in
Africa, so I mistakenly assumed they were indigenous. I had no idea this common
plant was so ordinary. All I could see
was beauty in this thing I nurtured. I was a quiet girl, so I often wonder if
my mom’s suggestion to speak to my plant was a disguised effort to coax my voice
out of hiding. My mom taught me much more than how to care for a plant; she
taught me to embrace the beautiful ordinary by watching God move in the small
moments of life.
Tucked away
inside the smallest, most ordinary occurrence is a beautiful God making Himself
known.
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