Standing on the garden path, I thought the summer’s sun had tricked my mind— a kind of feverish delusion— as the flowers whispered, “Listen.” I leaned in closer, straining to discern what I had heard. There it is was again! “Listen.” My heart heard it, distinctly. “God, I may be going mad,” I said. “Your flowers are speaking to me.”

“They have much to tell you if you pay attention,” He answered.

“What do they want me to know?” I asked.

“They will tell you,” He said, gently.

I sat down on the pathway, the pavers almost too hot for comfort. But there I sat, expectantly.

“We are God’s smiles,” they said. “His laughter, too. He created us for your enjoyment, that you might know the bliss in His heart.”

I nodded, amazed.

“Every blossom holds the story of creation, reaching back to the beginning of time, for we were there before God hung the sun and the moon in the heavens,” they whispered. “When you look upon us, you look upon the goodness of God, which is inherent in all things.”

I rose, the heat from the pavers too much to bear any longer. The flowers moved with the wind as the afternoon breeze came in off the ocean, cooling down me and the garden.

“Thank you,” I said. Silently, they nodded and went about being the goodness that they are; the goodness that is in all of God’s creation.






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