You Have to Be There

 The iris bed is in full bloom. Deep blue, lemon yellow and rich burgundy. Held aloft on sturdy three foot stems just the right height in which to cradle a flower in my hands. I place my hands around a blue flower and sink my nose into it. A soft sweet fragrance. I can see the yellow pollen sitting on top of the stamens, lined up in a row, like the lights on a runway, for the bee to follow. The patches of white and streaks of purple enhance the entrance. As I stand here, face buried in the flowers, a catbird lands nearby to pick up a caterpillar. He is so near that I can see the velvety black feathers of his head that blend seamlessly into his gray body. I can see his black eyes and his black beak. He files away.

This iris bed is visible from the house. I have looked at it from a distance this past week, admiring it but too busy with daily work to go out and get close. Until just now. So much to do. Always. The list too often becomes my God. Putting aside the tasks at hand and heeding the call to get close enough to those irises to inhale their color, I am reminded of my goal in life. To be fully present in each moment. To see all that is around me and find God there. I am reminded too that this means making the time. It may rain heavily tomorrow, weighting down those blooms and causing the stems to break.

Life is like the season of Spring. So many plants seem to flower at once. Some will bloom for a few days. Most will last for a week or two. They all will fade and drop. How important it is to make the time to have a cup of coffee with a friend who needs to talk about her failing marriage. To write and mail the thank you note I’ll do when I get the chance. To make rhubarb crisp because my husband likes it. It is in these places and moments that I encounter God. Where life takes on meaning and purpose. May I always heed the garden’s call.