Thursday, June 7, 2012

B40. Evening Primrose

Be still and know that I am God.  (Ps. 46:10)

Today I saw the opening of an evening primrose.

A primrose bush apparently blooms for only a few weeks during the year.  Each bloom opens at about 8:30 PM on whatever evening it is ready, opening from stem to full bloom in about one minute as if being played in time lapse speed, only to fall withered to the ground the following day, that particular stem never to rebloom.  As with any flower, the bloom itself is lovely.  Yet, to see only the bloom and not its opening is to miss its miraculous gift.  No words, no photos, not even a video, can capture the full awesomeness of witnessing God’s hand at work.

Personal presence.  The patience of experiencing creation while the ever-active Creator is at work.  The opening of the primrose, the dolphins at play in the winter surf, the distinct songs of the birds of the woodlands, walking through a light summer rain and welcoming the refreshment to our bodies, the rejoicing at each new change as a tiny planted seed peeks from the soil and gradually produces tomatoes, or apples, or daisies. We can know these with our minds, but only in our stillness will we become a player in the experience, and in that experience we find sweet intimacy with the Artist at work. We miss creation if we define it as a past event, finished and complete, for creation lives. The creative work of God is in progress at every geographic location at every moment, so convenient for each of us, lest we should seek those moments to "be still."

We are a busy people, settling for the passing God rituals, for talk about God, for a quick mealtime prayer.  But all around us, the Master Artist is painting, sculpting, creating for our pleasure, knowing that most of the primrose blooms will fall to the ground without our recognition.  Yet the Creator creates another and another, just in case we might find stillness for a moment and watch creation's work.  Every flower holds its own mystery, fauna its own gift.

Be still and know that I am God, says  the 46th Psalm, and if we are still enough to watch the primrose open, we rest, not in mind alone, but in soul, with the Peace of this Psalm’s beginning:  God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.  Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging. (Ps. 46:1-3)

Today I saw the opening of an evening primrose, and the very movement of God’s hand brushed my soul.

*Special note of thanks to Cathy Robbins for inviting me to share her primrose!

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