What is one blue morning glory?
Or even two blue morning glories?
Or a kit of clothes?
Or a letter?
I HAVE WRITTEN THE ENCYCLOPEDIA BRITTANICA!
(the heart proudly declares).
MIND and HEART…MIND and HEART…
Speak them aloud…whisper them…sing them!
In my mind’s eye, I see her now…an olive-skinned li’l girl with sunlit hair, wearing her usual sun-suits, sewn lovingly by her mom, a gifted dressmaker during her time…She was about 7-years old…holding a basket in her hand as she walks through the meadows…which was yet a reality in her childhood days…the meadows at that time were big parcels of land still unoccupied. And lots and lots of grasses to romp around, play on…roll on…to jump up and down for whatever reason there might be…or just sit or slump in one of the few fruit-bearing trees…In her young mind she had it in her heart that her God created all these things for her alone…Because he loves her so much, He created this place as her sanctuary…her refuge…a hiding place, for she was frail and sickly…
Good morning, my morning glories!
She had counted the buds of the morning glory vine as she comes home from school, each passing day. Part of her daily rituals…Many times the buds would number to ten, twenty, or more. The sight of the flowers would give her so much joy! They were beautiful and lovely to look at…soft to her touch…It was glorious! At times there are buds that did not blossom…they were unopened. And this will make her so sad…why? What happened? She would ask the flowers…she will then unpluck gently the bud that did not see the day from the vine…she’ll dig a small hole on the earth. Make a small wooden cross from the fallen twigs around her. She’ll gently pluck some fresh flowers, and gently put the blooms on the “resting place.” And she will utter a prayer, “Goodbye…go peacefully to the one who created you.” Slowly, more quietly, she will go back to where she has started, checking on the other flowers in her “Secret Garden.”
“This is mine…mine alone…this is my garden…my God created this garden because He loves me so much…that in the morning mist, as I touch my morning glories…as I watch the blue skies up above my head with wonder and amazement, and as I touch the pearly dews at the top of the blades of grass – I know they heralding the coming of the New Day!
Little did I know that young as I was…I was already Worshipping my God! Then always as before, the days gone by – the memory verse taught by my earthly dad comes to my mind – “See the lilies of the field how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, but I say unto you, that not even Solomon in all his glory has been arrayed like one of these.”
That li’l girl is me…
Good morning, my morning glories!
She had counted the buds of the morning glory vine as she comes home from school, each passing day. Part of her daily rituals…Many times the buds would number to ten, twenty, or more. The sight of the flowers would give her so much joy! They were beautiful and lovely to look at…soft to her touch…It was glorious! At times there are buds that did not blossom…they were unopened. And this will make her so sad…why? What happened? She would ask the flowers…she will then unpluck gently the bud that did not see the day from the vine…she’ll dig a small hole on the earth. Make a small wooden cross from the fallen twigs around her. She’ll gently pluck some fresh flowers, and gently put the blooms on the “resting place.” And she will utter a prayer, “Goodbye…go peacefully to the one who created you.” Slowly, more quietly, she will go back to where she has started, checking on the other flowers in her “Secret Garden.”
“This is mine…mine alone…this is my garden…my God created this garden because He loves me so much…that in the morning mist, as I touch my morning glories…as I watch the blue skies up above my head with wonder and amazement, and as I touch the pearly dews at the top of the blades of grass – I know they heralding the coming of the New Day!
Little did I know that young as I was…I was already Worshipping my God! Then always as before, the days gone by – the memory verse taught by my earthly dad comes to my mind – “See the lilies of the field how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, but I say unto you, that not even Solomon in all his glory has been arrayed like one of these.”
That li’l girl is me…
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