These days I’ve been waking up and asking myself: why bother? Am I doing anything that’s actually contributing to the world? Does my life matter if I only touch a handful of people? Is my mere existence enough?
Whenever I ask these questions, God is quick to answer (if I bother to listen) that simply existing is plenty. I’m shown this over and over in nature. Do I ask a flower why it bothers to bloom? Do I demand it give me a reason for its existence? Yet when I behold its gracious petals, complex textures, and surprising colors I am stunned into silent worship. Am I not as precious as a flower, here today and gone tomorrow?
I decide I need a Gratefulness Walk. In less than an hour I pass five fabulous flowers that capture my attention and give me hope to meet the morning.
The first is a common sowthistle, its brilliant, shaggy petals radiating out like a glorious sun. Within the blossom’s central curly threads, a metallic green sweat bee is curving its body to glean what is necessary for its own absolutely worthwhile existence.
I then encounter the slender, fast-growing stalks of the prairie dock, already towering over the tall grasses. Their bulbous green, alien-like globules create expectations of bizarre-looking blooms, but the flowers are quite ordinary, mimicking yellow daisies. God already knows what’s wrapped up in my “package” and so there’s no room for disappointment as I bloom.
Moving farther down the path, a furry mullein catches my eye, and as I peer closer, I note its petals are subtly veined, like my skin. The entire lemon-hued cup is really one piece, and the sense that the petals are separated is only an illusion—a perfect illustration of my connection to God.
What’s this? From afar I see only a golden spray of petals, but as I venture closer, a bouquet of tiny blooms forms the center of this pale-leaved sunflower. A hoverfly, and a leaf-legged bug that hints at transformer capabilities, stand back-to-back willing to share their prize. I learn from their wisdom.
Before my walk ends, I spy an Echinacea pushing its prickly central whorl outward while its pale purple petals arc back as if pressed by wind. A minuscule particle of yellow pollen contrasts against the maroon and emerald spikes, drawing me in. Sometimes revealing the tiniest part of oneself is enough to offer to the world.
Sondra Sula's Blog: The Nature of Spirituality 