Whenever I hear someone make the statement, “There is no proof that God exists,” I am immediately drawn to the image of a newborn babe. Particularly from a mother’s point of view (someone who has carried a little bundle inside her body for nine months), I cannot fathom how someone could believe that birth “just happens.”
As my children have grown older and I fortunately am not yet to the grandparent stage, my point of reference has shifted to images of the garden. As I sit outside after a good day of digging, mulching and pruning, I am in awe of the glory that surrounds me. While I am proud of my own handiwork that is not to what I refer.
There is so much rhythm in the garden even during this time of quiet. Bees work busily to re-pollinate the catmint I trimmed yesterday. A tiny spider spins a minute web between two flower stems. An ink black crow slowly strolls across the green grass looking for an afternoon snack. My golden dog sniffs with nose in air and ears pricked high for smells and sounds I cannot fathom. The water in my fountain gently trickles in the background and I find myself renewed, refreshed and grateful to be alive.
My muscles are tired, my hair needs a shampoo and my limbs are slightly more tan than they were a few days ago. The garden glows in the afternoon sun. How can one imagine that all these things “just happen”? It has become clear to me this spring that when I am frustrated with the world around me all I need do is walk out my door and witness the abundance that awaits me in the garden.
A gentle breeze blows an “Amen” in response.
Reminder to Self: Read this on days when you are grumpy and the skies are gray. Written on 6/18/2007, but still applicable today.
photo by lucy