What can we say about this summer? The weather has been fantastic. The garden is lush and productive. And I marvel.
I marvel at what grows. Such is the fascination of the Canadian gardener. You prepare the soil, finally, when all frost is past, you plant a tiny or not so tiny, yet completely unsuspecting looking seed--and from it grows the most unbelievable thing, a gorgeous flower, a lovely bush, a humongous zucchini plant producing for the whole neighborhood. How is it possible that a little seed produces a zucchini plant? The frond-like leaves? The great yellow flowers? The zucchini growing a mile a minute if you don't watch out!
It is a truly astonishing every-day miracle. It takes my breath away because I planted those seeds and now I have a big plant and vegetables to eat.
And I think about the DNA that makes it all happen. It is even so much smaller than the seed itself. It contains all the information to make the zinnia and the zucchini. Information is everything. You have DNA and you can have anything you want that lives, beautifully designed. Without DNA you have dirt and only dirt.
And we think we are not known by God. He does know the hair on the head. We think he does not hear us but all around me are communication waves. If I had a radio, I could listen to my radio in the garden. If I have my cell phone, I can receive things from the cell phone tower. If I have my I-Pad I can receive things from the WiFi. If I bring my Bluetooth speaker, and can receive things on its wavelength. Everywhere there are waves, and everywhere waves can bring communication of information. And God can hear my prayer. Yes. ? He made the zinnia. He made the WiFi. He made me. Mindblowing. Help my unbelief.
And also this summer, the horror in the Middle East and other places has occupied my mind. Does God hear my prayer about that? I don't want to go into it right now. But the beauty of my garden and the Wifi in my garden and God in my garden--my prayer in the garden--it is dis-consonant. Life is so sad, also. We wait and pray for that other garden, the garden where all is well and there are no more tears. The garden where we are with the good God, and not with how many black-eyed virgins. Lord have mercy.