Our new dead-nettles
Overnight, a host of brilliant yellow dandelions have bloomed all over our lawn, punctuated by a crop of brilliant purple dead-nettles. The squirrels have not eaten our tulips, so we have a dash of bright red, too. Is it any wonder that most people love the spring.
And then the bells of St. Francis, across the street, chimed in with For the Beauty of the Earth.
The flowers tell us: God is nigh.
Just so you know it’s not all bad around here, and we do have blessings to be thankful for:
My wife can shuffle around the living room now and even climb up the stairs–with me behind her, in case she falls. That way we can fall together.
Our tulips have bloomed. The neighborhood squirrels’ culture must have changed. Last year they ate the tulips.
We have replaced our vacuum cleaner.
I found Patty an Easter present that’ll light her up but good. Sorry, I can’t tell you what it is–she might read this.
I think I might be able to ride my bike again soon. My knee is much improved.
These are not fantastic windfalls of good fortune, but they’ll do for us. They’ll do just fine.
At least once a year we hear another batch of reports of NOAA and other government agencies, along with their allied “scientists,” getting caught fudging the figures on “Climate Change” or “Global Warming.” But no matter how often they get caught lying, you can’t get people to stop trusting Big Brother.
You might as well be talking to statues.
These last few days of March have been brutally cold, up here in Jersey–I mean January-type cold, temps in the teens. And the other day there was a terrible pileup on Route I-81 in Pennsylvania: people killed, dozens of cars and trucks wrecked–all because of snow, ice, and fog. Hardly March 27 weather at all!
Yeahbut, yeahbut! They’re experts, man!
Trust them at your peril. They are not honest.
As if by magic–but it’s God’s magic, no one else’s–we have all kinds of little wildflowers springing up around our building. Our tulips are coming up, too; and I’ll have to take care to put a cage over them to keep the squirrels from biting off the buds, a bad habit of theirs.
We have these little purple things, bright purple, suddenly visible–where were they yesterday? And crocuses, daffodils, and these tiny white flowers that are everywhere, and Patty’s Lenten roses… they’re all over the place.
And it makes me think, yes, God renews His creation every spring. He is not remote from us, He is not an absentee landlord: He is right here, with us, all the time. That’s what all these flowers are telling us. They are hymns of color, hymns of life.
For which we give thanks in Jesus’ name, Amen.