The short summer is rapidly segueing to autumn. I stare out
my window at the rowan berries, profuse and heavy. The pastel shades of autumn
crocus catch my eye. These fragile flowers, forgotten by me, surprise me each
year when they appear.
Gifts of beauty, with perhaps no other purpose than to bring
a smile to my face, a skip of joy to my heart. They took no work, and require
no work now. I won’t make jelly with the rowan berries: wouldn’t know what to
use it with. I won’t try to figure out how you get saffron from the stems of
these crocus.
I will simply enjoy them. I will sit and stare, drinking in
the beauty, asking God to whisper to me in his still, small voice.
Perhaps that is the meaning of apparently meaningless
beauty: to draw our attention so that we pause from the clamour of life, so we
listen for the gentle voice of God.
May I pause many times today, alert to notice the signature
of the Lord in the landscape in which I live. May I notice it not just in the
natural landscape, but also in the welcome from the hairdresser, the smile from
the grocery clerk, the cheery greeting of the postman.
May I be more aware this day of the many gifts of beauty and
love showered all around me, than of the relentlessly depressing news droning
on about flawed leaders, violent injustices, and impending disasters.
God bless your day.
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