I often think about how much difference one person can make in the world: Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr., Mother Teresa. But what about little ol’ me?
Then I glance out the window and see a plethora of phlox in my flower garden and realize that I can and do make a difference in the world.
Years ago I was mesmerized by a pale pink flower edged in dark pink at a local nursery and lifted the plant identification marker to read: phlox. I innocently planted it at the feet of Jesus—a piece of cement statuary lovingly transported from the Florida Keys to northern Illinois in the backseat of our Ford station wagon, and then hoisted into the backyard garden.
Fast forward to today’s garden filled with hundreds of phlox of every hue between white and violet. The plants are so tall I can’t even see the crown of Jesus’ head, much less his feet. And the diversity in pattern is astounding thanks to the many insects involved in the cross-pollination process. All of this exuberance and vibrancy from one tiny plant.
As I stroll through this garden (perhaps struggle through the tangle is more apt) I’m aware that I am like that original pink picotee phlox. Nourished by the natural world—sun, sky, flora, fauna—and blessed by the light of Christ, my little Gratefulness Walks are spreading out beyond the borders of my mind into the tangible realm. Making one person’s life a little brighter spreads out to touch another and another until fresh gardens of joy lighten every dark place.
Sondra Sula's Blog: The Nature of Spirituality 