Look at this amazing tiny wildflower…it grows wild along the edge of the woods. Looking at it closely, it really is amazing isn’t it? The coloring…those tiny magenta like spots demurely dotting a milky center…along with those soft yellow streaks…offered by what seems to be the errant brush stroke of an artist’s paint. Those fine tiny little fuzzy hairs, surrounding each gentle and tender petal…ready and waiting to tickle the foot of any visiting bee…Absolutely amazing…Such attention to detail…A microcosm of beauty that sits for no one in particular, randomly along the edge of the woods…Except say for the birds, the deer, the coyotes, the armadillos…and chances are, it is only the bees that pay it any heed…A delightful detail to be marveled over…A sheer tiny portent of beauty…offered freely to any passerby to gleefully behold…Yet I do not see such a tiny marvel as mere happenstance. I do not find it to be some random mix of atoms that swirled together over the eons, then popped out as this flower…I do not look upon anything on this earth as mere happenstance…the oceans and all that they harbor and hold…the sky with it’s endless cosmic delights…the earth be it verdant growth or sandy dunes…Nothing has happened without the knowledge of the Creator…but there are many who would beg to differ. There are those who will cry foul over such thoughts…those who will fight ardently, tooth and nail, to wipe away any such notion…because for them, that’s all that such is…mere notions of the uneducated, the simple, the naive and the misinformed.
For the law was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ. ~John 1:17 ✝
**Julie Cook was kind enough to let me us part of one of her posts.
Poetry isn’t a profession,
it’s a way of life.
It’s an empty basket;
you put your life into it
and make something out of that.
A tisket, a tasket
A green and rosy basket.
The wind blew a thistle’s seed.
On the way to elsewhere.
It blew it,
it blew it,
The seed that made my basket.
(Basket-flower, also called American star thistle, is annual garden and wildflower native to southwestern North America. Resembling a spineless thistle, it has stout branching stems, and when the rose-coloured compact heads of disk flowers appear they are surrounded by fringed bracts, similar in appearance to a woven basket. Their seeds are borne in achene fruits and are wind-dispersed. These thistles are commonly planted in gardens to attract birds and butterflies.) I’d been watching this plant for months as I’d not seen one in my yard before, and so I wasn’t sure at first what it was. Then when it started putting on its baskets I knew it was an American thistle. And since the wind had blown it in, it was almost as if the blessing of blossoms had dropped from above. If you remember the nursery rhyme that started out like the first line of my silly little poem, it should sound more or less the same as the original if you sing along with the words. And I probably should ask Mary Oliver to forgive me for quoting her along with my feeble attempt at such.)
Thus the Lord God showed me, and behold there was a basket of summer fruit (or in my case, a basket thistle). ~Amos 8:1 ✝
To find the universal elements enough; to find the air and the water exhilarating; to be refreshed by a morning walk or an evening saunter… to be thrilled by the stars at night; to be elated over a bird’s nest or a wildflower in spring — these are some of the rewards of the simple life. ~John Burroughs
Each day, awakening, are we asked to paint the sky blue? Need we coax the sun to rise or flowers to bloom? Need we teach birds to sing, or children to laugh, or lovers to kiss? No, though we think the world imperfect, it surrounds us each day with its perfections. We are asked only to appreciate them, and to show appreciation by living in peaceful harmony amidst them. The Creator does not ask that we create a perfect world; He asks that we celebrate it. ~Robert Brault
Yesterday I went to a local nursery, and while I was looking around, I turned to see a hummingbird nectaring on the flowers there. Sadly I didn’t have my camera to capture the little hummer. So when I found this photo on Pinterest, it was like a gift, and I shall always celebrate God’s gifts.
They celebrate your abundant goodness and joyfully sing of your righteousness. ~Psalm 145:7 ✝
All goes back to the earth,
and so I do not desire
pride of excess or power,
but the contentments made
by men who have had little:
the fisherman’s silence
receiving the river’s grace,
the gardener’s musing on rows….
To find the universal elements enough;
to find the air and the water exhilarating;
to be refreshed by a morning walk
or an evening saunter…
to be thrilled by the stars at night;
to be elated over a bird’s nest
or a wildflower in spring —these are
some of the rewards of the simple life.
The law of the Lord is perfect, restoring the soul; The testimony of the Lord is sure, making wise the simple. ~Psalm 19: 7 ✝