Can You Smell The Roses?

My brother is a gardener. He creates multi-colored beds, plants smiling marigolds, hangs plants galore, whose names I never remember. When I step onto his patio, the sound of water cascades from various water features. It reminds me of a mini Multnomah Falls. Beautiful yard decorations are ingeniously placed throughout. Sweet smells arise from the plants, the names escape me. Purple, sunflower-yellow, orange, violet and a rainbow of other colors dot the landscape. I sigh with envy, return home and spray my petunias for teensy black bugs. Because my brother told me to. I really care about my flowers, I really do. But recently I have wondered if I care a little too much. A number of years ago, God spoke to me and said...I am in the flowers you love. That shook me up. Maybe He meant if I fertilized more, my spiritual growth would pick up in a furious pace. Or, perhaps He meant I needed to plant extra flowers and worry about aphids, mildew and slimy slugs. Then the other day, I snipped off a pale pink rose, inhaled the rich scent and it hit home. I realized He already knew my deep appreciation for splendorous flowers. He understood that something so wonderful, so easily captured within our eye sight and in our senses, was a gift to be treasured. Not something to fret over or feed insecurities. I am not a master gardener, or even a plant enthusiast, but I have a greater respect and awe for the gifts in the midst of my every day life. Especially in my garden.