May 20, 2011

My Journey to God

My Easter Blessing

On Easter, she brought in a four-inch flower pot filled with limp, light green tulip leaves and wrapped in colored foil.
The sticker said “White Tulips/$5.99.”
“I thought you’d like white tulips,” she said hopefully.
I gave her a hug and sat them on the table.
“Thank you.”
She had thought of me when she moved through the grocery at the speed of lightning, picking up cookies to bring to our small afternoon repast. She also brought her ailing mother and her son. Others were invited, but they were the only ones who came.
She had thought of me.
On Monday, I watered the dry soil and sat the forlorn little pot on the porch, and walked away. Not much hope here.
By Wednesday, the leaves had taken charge, and there were three sturdy, slender stems, each topped with a fat bud.
Oh my!
On Saturday, I brought the pot into the house hoping to watch the tulips open.
They were in imperceptible motion. By Saturday afternoon, white blooms were lying open and flat as the palm of my hand in the warm house air.
What’s that about?
By Sunday, they had resumed their upright tulip petal shape, still only half open.
That’s probably all they’ll do.
But, no! Every day, a surprise! The tulips got taller and larger, maturing into full bloom. Every day, the blossoms developed further into their own promise.
On Mother’s Day, the petals were open wide. They were elegant, curving and graceful like dancers—synchronized, but each one separate from the others, perfect unto itself.
Adagio.

By Cindy Leppert

(Cindy Leppert is a member of St. Christopher Parish in Indianapolis.) †

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