I wander to the garden to feel the morning air on my skin. I sip coffee and meander about, just observing. I look at the ground cherry and marvel how the seed I planted once sat in my palm, no bigger than a grain of sand. And now? The whole plant seems impossible. One seed creates this plant whose fruit holds hundreds and hundreds of seeds.
Would we not discover God if we just asked about this whole seed business? Who thought of this process? How can we not worship? And why do we love thinking like this? Who put that inside of us to wonder over growing things and delight in growth at all? How uniquely human!
Next, I note the super sweet cherry tomato. I worried over these seeds. I worried I’d see no fruit. I hadn’t seen the normal rabble of bees to pollinate. My oldest daughter reminds me how easy pollination is and how the wind can do it. I find myself amazed at wind. Is that why we have wind? To pollinate when the bees cannot?
Finally, I note the potted mini sunflower. It follows the sun. Think about it. How does it do this? Who programmed it? How can we not worship this kind of God? I thank Him for the particular combination of yellow and cobalt blue–my favorite. Thank you for colors. Thank you for seeds. Thank you for the sun, for dirt, and for gardens. Thank you.
