The Peonies are blooming. The ones beside the lane have been growing there for over 30 years . . .
And the ones that grew on Certain Man’s Mother’s grave are also blooming, but almost done. These are Heirloom plants and they look different from the ones beside the drive.
Every time the peonies bloom I remember the woman I never met who gave birth to this man I love, and I’m grateful.
I also remember this musing from a file in my desk from long ago.
Spring Musings
Her Daddy loves growing things. Along our walk and hither and yon he has planted peonies. They grew on his mother’s grave and he loves their lavish colors and extravagant fragrance.
She is our youngest: twenty months of energy, smiles and personality. Like her daddy, she loves growing things. She has just discovered that peonies have flowers and flowers have smell. I’m working in the flower bed beside the house tonight, and she is fighting a loosing battle with wanting to pick the posies.
The buds are nearly ready to burst. The plants are loaded. One flower more or less won’t matter, I tell myself as her little fingers begin to dismantle a bud. She works industriously to free some petals, and beaming, toddles over to me. Proudly she shows me her handful of crumpled flower petals, smells them with long effusive breaths, and then holds them up for me to smell.
At first I smell but sweaty baby hand, but the the haunting, lingering smell of spring peonies comes bravely through.
I watch her glowing face, think of our delight in this child, and think of my own Heavenly Father. Far better than I is He at seeing the beauty and smelling the fragrance in the broken petals I bring to Him. Some of it has been done in innocence, as my Toddler’s joyous enjoyment of life reminds me.
But some has not been so innocent or carefree. Yet still, this Father of Love can take what has been lost beyond repair and accept what brokenness I offer Him and loves me and gives me hope. He smells the fragrance when others cannot. His love for me transforms something worthless into a thing of great treasure.
And that is Grace Enough!
Delaware Grammy 