This post comes as part of our microadventure series – keep sending me your microadventures and I’d love to hear what you’re all up to in the madness of the lockdown!
Chatting to my sister in Chad, I become appreciative of things in the world I’ve not been thankful for recently. The greenery on the trees from a different climate, the water in the taps and other such things. Weeks could easily pass in some countries, without seeing vibrant green grass, not to mention the diversity of colours splashed over the petals of flowers. All these things open my eyes to the world around me, even in lockdown, and open my heart to sing and be thankful.
And so as I went about my life today, I was determined to appreciate colour, and particularly that of the plants around me. The plants of course, that I normally speed past at 100 miles an hour on a regular day, and never notice because they don’t move, and through my ignorance, are never a cause for me to stop and wonder.
For me, who knows so little about plants, I have to confess it’s quite daunting to even start to think through a whole new world, and to get any sort of enjoyment out of exploring that (other than simply taking in the sights and smells of them). But I’m reliably informed that the Picture This app is a wonderful way forward, that will expand our horizons and make such a project a little less daunting.
But one thing I have still enjoyed today, even in my ignorance, is simply thinking about who made all of this (if indeed, like me, you think it was made). Whoever it was believed in something that was more than functional. Whoever it was, believed in diversity. Whoever it was, had utter imagination and creativity.
And it leaves me mourning how so many religious peoples in the world seem to funnel everything in life towards an eternal functionality (where sharp divides are made between physical and spiritual), seem to live so uniformly, seem to care so little about the world around us and our environment, and seem to lack the infinite imagination of their maker. Robbing the cosmos of colour.
Sadly, I weep at these things in my own heart so often too, as I mistakenly choose to believe (and consequently live out) wrong things about my Maker and live in false reality of blacks, whites and greys.
Finally, in considering the flowers at such an uncertain time, I can’t help but think of how else we’re called to live, in light of such actions:
27 ‘Consider how the wild flowers grow. They do not labour or spin. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendour was dressed like one of these. 28 If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today, and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, how much more will he clothe you – you of little faith! 29 And do not set your heart on what you will eat or drink; do not worry about it. 30 For the pagan world runs after all such things, and your Father knows that you need them. 31 But seek his kingdom, and these things will be given to you as well. (Luke 12)
May our stopping to delight in flowers, be a sign of our utter trust in the One who made them – an act of spiritual worship, as we also serve the needs of the world around us.
PS: Perhaps I should care more about aesthetics, and changing out of the same clothes I’ve worn these last weeks in lockdown (as nobody is around to see)!