Abby and I went for a three-mile walk this afternoon to help us "train" (and I use the word very loosely) for a 5K that we quite possibly were (ahem) manipulated into running (or more accurately, walking because ha HA this mama don't run!) next month. As we neared the end of the journey, we both saw a beautiful pink flower that had somehow managed to sprout right smack in the middle of a patch of green grass.
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We stopped to admire it and puzzled over how it'd come to exist --and apparently thrive-- in such an unlikely place. I saw God in it for lots of reasons, but most profoundly in the truth that we can survive and be content even when transplanted to unfamiliar places that don't seem to fit our personalities or preferences. That's a big one for me, since I'm an East Coast girl living in a West Coast world, away from all that was familiar to me as I grew up. Away from the lion's share of the people I love the most. But hey, if the flower can make it and do well, so can I, right?
Bloom on, little flower.
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