Not By Chance ...

                       Those little things that you alone see, Virginia, aren't by chance.
                     The sign, the squirrel, the dragonfly; the whisper, the song, the lily.
             It's me.  I'm always with you.  I'll do anything to reach you -- to give you hope,
                                         keep you on track, answer your questions. 

                                                              Look even closer,

                                                             THE UNIVERSE

                                                                 www.tut.com  

It is a glorious morning and I sit, coffee in hand, out on the back deck.  It is still early and all of the surrounding nature is busy.  Trees are bending to catch the rays of the sun and flowers stretch tall growing in this dawn's early light.  Birds are splashing in the bird bath while others are proudly singing their song.  The sky is cloudless, and my eyes idly search the sky hoping to see a hawk in flight.  I settle for the lovely mourning doves not far from my feet.

I wander out into the yard and comfortably sit on the little bench under the old tulip tree.  I breathe in the lovely fragrances from the perennial garden filled with flowers.  One flower in particular seems to catch my eye as though beckoning me, "Come see me!"  Still in my white robe, I walk barefoot through the dew filled grass and smile at this sweet creation seemingly calling out to me.

I thank the garden for its bounty and I ask permission to pick this lovely flower.  I choose this delicate unfolding blossom with gratitude and thank the flower for gifting itself to me.  I gently carry it back to the porch, where I can treat my senses to the gifts hidden within this flower. 

I close my eyes and breathe deeply into the fragrance before me.  With eyes still closed I gently stroke the petal, noting a liquid residue sticking to my fingers.  Still with eyes closed, I ask the flower random questions: Do you return every year? Where do you go during the other seasons? Is there a knowing between the flowers like a recognition? Can they hear the songs of the birds?

I am not sure how long I sat in wonderment holding this lovely gift.  I do know I did not hear any responses to my questions; however, the flower extended a calm around my body like spreading a blanket across a child.  Its fragrance grew stronger and filled my head with beautiful colors.  As I stroked the edges of the petals, each touch was like a gentle kiss offered to my soul.

Returning indoors, I placed the flower in my favorite little vase and secured it upon my desk.  I continued to marvel during the passing hours at all of the details I would unexpectedly notice.  The gentle blossom held my attention and blessed my entire day. 

When evening fell, I pressed the sweet flower between two pages of a poetry book as I knew I would frame it on some future day. It would be a gift that kept on giving much longer than this magical day, as I knew without question this exchange had not been by chance.