I am a suburban girl. In my experience, flowers are bought at a nursery, carefully placed in specific beds, watered, fertilized, and cared for. Anything else growing there is a weed. But maybe I’m wrong.
Much of the country we crossed in the train seemed untouched by humans. Mountains rose near and far, some crowned with snow. Hills in the distance looked like someone had trimmed them with a gigantic knife, their tops perfectly level with one other.
And the wildflowers! Prodigal God-created beauty in all colors that can only be seen from the window of a train … and then only if someone is looking. And they joyfully, riotously bloom even if no one ever sees them. What kind of gardener does that?
“Consider how the wildflowers grow. They do not labor or spin.
Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these.
If that is how God clothes the grass of the field,
which is here today, and tomorrow is thrown into the fire,
how much more will he clothe you—you of little faith!
Luke 12:27-28 NIV
God’s blessings crowd the landscape wherever we might be, even if we’re not looking. That’s the kind of Gardener He is.
(Note: to self: “Keep looking!“)
