He quietly floats by as the ripple of the water’s babble sings in delight. He has no pretense, no reasoning, no intent bearing mind. He paddles about, succumbing to the water’s control. Near the shore, the onlookers take take notice. The man is kneeling in prayer. The tall man with long dark hair and sky blue eyes looks upward, awaiting patient vitality.

He is reverent and steadfast, and the onlookers are engaged in what they see: he has one hand on the man’s ear and the other upon his lower lip, they are baffled and inspired. The man without voice places his whole life in the stranger’s care. He kneels as though he has always known he could, as though he is defining his destiny. His countenance has no fear.

People begin gathering around them, more and more. Such a spectacle of awe and wonder! The tall blue-eyed man holds the kneeling one in his hands with simplistic grandeur. Oh those endearing hands, what they may do?!?

I’ve never had much of a green thumb, although I do so love growing simple things like tomato gardens or tulips. House plants don’t seem to agree with me much. However, there’s something distinctly ethereal about growing anything from a seedling, and maintaining and nurturing it. It becomes yours. It is now part of you, because you have loved and cared for it. I find gardening peaceful. Even just watering my grass at 8 am. makes me feel like I’m closer to the earth at that moment than any other time of my day. Mothering three young boys and playing ping-pong with a limited but, you would think I would put more time into building and maintaining a garden, but alas I’m more likely to open a book, rather than a bag of mulch.

I have many friends with children graduating this year. They’re “flying the coup” as some of them say, and I know that when that moment comes for me, I will have to find something else in life that needs my care. Something that fulfills me when I’m in the nurturing mood. I think a garden would be a perfect resolution for my own empty nest syndrome. It would be a great introduction to get my hubby eating better. It would obviously save finances (which will be strapped in tuition for my birdies in flight). It will be, yet another way for me to keep sweating, even through the retirement years. It’s a great way to far extend my conversations with God. It will decrease the gas and time it requires to drive to Meijer/the farmers market/corner deli for produce, which I can in turn invest in the garden, thereby saving more money. Boy, this is getting better by the minute!

It will also be a good way for me to be more of a community activist by toting the abundant harvest to local charities or neighbors for sharing. I think that’s one of the greatest ways to appreciate someone: giving them something you’ve taken care of, it shows consideration and appreciation 🙂

Although I have no experience with hard labor or organized outdoor activities (hence my aptitude for writing) I know this will be a bit of an undertaking and require some assistance in that area. With that said, I do believe my husky boys will be a perfect asset in this endeavor. After I tell them how much pizza I can make with all the ingredients (including the sauce) they’ll be sure to approve and help with the work. So, it seems only natural that I get this idea going. Maybe I can start a tomato garden first, to test my thumb. I’m pretty good at growing food, herb are my friend. It must be due to my sense of gratitude, I do so love food! This grapefruit at the University of Michigan Botanical Gardens and Conservatory is what made me think of this. It’s truly a beauty. One of the many free and clear wonders of God, but only free if we appreciate its wonder. The Earth isn’t given freely, it needs care and love to maintain itself. It requires understanding and the people inhabiting it need to work hard to keep it the beautiful rock that it is. It’s stunningly hanging freely in the balance with only us here to nurture it, very much like the botanical grapefruit.

How did you get your name?

Could it be the feathery textured petal?

Soft and silk spun sheen,

Immersed throughout-

A blossom of the age,

your kaleidoscope color,

Long and statuesque,

Reaching out lovely

to the world.

You say to me, “Good morning”

with every turn of the sun,

and I pause to take you in.

Such majesty and reverence,

open-faced beauty.

Body language aiming high,

you are the shoot,

and your zenith

a wonder.

The lingering fragrance

tickles my soul.

It stays with me,

walks with me.

You are my friend.

You make me whole.

You scream life,

and I listen.

Smelling sweet,

like a long Summer day,

lost in the tide,

rolling in and out.

A bright, buxom bloom,

shining wildly.

Your Pinkest of Pink,

and rosey petals,

bursting tequila sunrise.

They hug me in the light and fair.

Twirling hues,

thunderous and sparkling,

like fresh melony tangerine.

The Sun, Sky, and Air,

rest stunningly,

within your gentle saunter.

Basking in your glory,

I patiently await,

Stargazing the Lily

Four years ago, my son brought home a How-To Origami book from the library. My husband and I found it endearing and encouraged him to read the book, or at least try to. He was only six years old at the time. Everyday, he read a little bit. He would come to us and ask for help sounding out certain words, but after some time, he was able to get through the book.

We thought, even though the book seemed a little advanced for him, that it would be good practice. He seemed so enthralled with the book, we figured the artwork was getting his attention. A few days after he had finished the book, we noticed tiny pieces of paper in his room, on the dining room table, in the bathroom, pretty much in every room of the house that he spends time in. Initially, I dismissed the little folded treasures as play-ground projects that most school-aged children play with. However, I began noticing that these little folded pieces actually resembled things: a duck, a tea-cup (not sure how he was able to do that) a flower that moved to imitate the budding and flowering process. I was absolutely shocked! This kid, my sweet little six year old who loves baseball, bubble gum, and singing in the shower actually created these tiny objects. The kid was performing & creating origami artwork!

You must understand how absolutely ridiculous my husband and I felt, after we sifted through the book and had a hand at trying this for ourselves. I couldn’t do it, I don’t have the patience. My husband is a laborer, and said his hands can’t manipulate these “damned tiny” pieces of paper. We felt so stupid we had to laugh. Then of course, we convinced ourselves that our true passions had never included origami, so we felt slightly better. However, the perspective that I had for my six year old changed forever. He’s the youngest of three boys, but I have a distinct feeling he may be the most challenging. He’s ten now. He’s an average boy, with lots of friends and activities. Yet, for some reason, I can’t seem to categorize the snowflake that he recently brought home to us as being an average snowflake.

He’s a little kid with a big mind….and a big snowflake 🙂