Do you believe in miracles?
I do. Today I met a woman with a garden full of them. She's the kind of person who knows the language of flowers, like St. Francis, or St. Hildegard. Somehow, she's blessed to understand and experience the interconnectedness of our friends in the natural world. She listens to the green. She praises God with the rocks. She lives in the middle of the city, but plants love her. At her house today I was surrounded by the beauty of sage she'd harvested from her back yard. It was amazing just to touch it. Have you ever really looked at sage? It reminds me of a line in The Color Purple, when Shug Avery says something like, "How can you look at the color purple and not know there is a God?"
Anyway, God asked Merri to make medicine from the flowers, but she didn't really didn't jump at the chance. She was very busy. It was September. Michigan has a short growing seasons. She said, "There isn't much left. There are astors and mums. Just tell me." She said the next day she and her husband were praying and she suddenly looked up at a dead cherry tree in her yard. It was full of blossoms and green leaves. She said she laughed and cried and praised God all at once. That season, and for the past four years her garden has thrived,in a most blessed way. Merri helps sick people get better. The flowers aid her in this ministry. I think it is yet another example of how God's provision is available, always, even in the fall when strawberry vines and cherry trees flower and fruit way past their time because God needs them to for sick people.
Once Jesus cursed a fig tree when he was very hungry. This time, He blessed a dead cherry tree and it flowered out of season. Her garden is full of miracles of this kind.
Someone asked me how I am tonight. I am happy to report that I am blossoming out of season. The clarity of my mind and spirit astonish me. I am never, ever well in this season. Gifts of grace and provision are overtaking me. There are so many blessings that I cannot contain them all. I am a miracle this winter.
Blooming out of season. God has changed my wintertide into just Spring, when the world is mudlucious and puddle-wonderful, just like e.e. cummings said.