Little, lively Vivie ran passed the colorful and showy hibiscus blossoms—some as as big as plates—and passed the endearing cabbage faces of old perfumed roses, to hold and behold a small, common garden offering. This wasn’t a flower famous for fragrance or beauty or anything, and still it’s slender stalk with purple velvet petals, captured my granddaughter’s heart.
Tomorrow there will be more to see—scarlet leaves and frosted barren branches. The turning seasons will bring icicles and snowy rolling hills, fruitful valleys, and the sweetness of honeysuckle. I hope, dearest Vivie, that you will always pause to wonder, stop to be astonished, cycle after cycle. I pray that your soul will burst with joy at dawn’s rosy glow and break with sorrow for the dead robin by the tree, and that your heart will roar louder than the raging river coursing down the mountain side swollen with snowmelt. May creation capture your attention completely to marvel why such beauty—why such ordered extravagance? Why such an offering of love through creation?
When you grow up and begin to search—to make your mark in this world—I pray that you return to the low fragrant flower and setting sun across the meadow to discover that you always knew—you always knew why.
“They know the truth about God because he has made it obvious to them. Forever since the world was created, people have seen the earth and sky. Through everything God made, they can clearly see his invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature, so they are without excuse.” Romans 1:19-20