Our sunflowers bloomed this week. As did the Rose of Sharon that has grown to a mammoth size and—with the help of the cherry tree—hides the electric pole from our gaze, putting beauty before utility. Literally.
A week of appointments, goodbyes, hellos, arrangements for a future that nobody can count on, and the usual daily-dos, made this an ordinary week in an extraordinary world.
There are so many clashes of opinions on and offline that any discussion often leads to an uneasy truce to agree to disagree. No one thinks exactly like me? Shocking, I know. Others take a different slant on current events? Unsettling in a world where actions matter.
Laura Ingalls Wilder wrote magnificently about her childhood in her Little House books, and she also wrote a breathtakingly honest column about her life as a farmwife. Her wisdom is clearly won through hard years of challenges but also through the quiet voice of her mother, Caroline, who once commented—“Least said, soonest mended.”
That quote has been a touchstone of the reality of late. Much like the garden soil, the swaying of the sunflowers as they turn toward the sun throughout the day, and the presence of a higher reality that pulls me from the frantic concerns of the modern world to a life of acceptance and love—no matter what.
I just finished reading Jimmy Stewart—A Biography by Marc Elliot. Stewart experienced up-close-and-personal, powerful realities—much like Laura Ingalls Wilder but from a Hollywood perspective.
In his case, the line from the movie, It’s a Wonderful Life encapsulated his existence, “No man is a failure who has friends.”
In both their lives, it wasn’t so much that they had friends—but they were friends—with all of humanity. They crossed boundaries as the world broke through ceilings of knowledge, skills, and human understanding.
Sunflowers do not bloom only for the appreciative eye. The sun does not warm only the ready seed. Gentle breezes blow on young and old, frail, and strong alike. Storms do much the same.
When the time is right and the day cools a bit, I’ll water the garden. I’m enjoying the breeze and the blossoms at this moment, knowing full well that they won’t last. But without judging the perfection of blooms, the timing of breezes, the power of storms, I’ll find peace in whatever is good and beautiful.
I suspect that Caroline, Laura, and Jimmy would agree.