I was picking dead leaves off the geranium plant my mom gave me before she left, looking at this funny plant and trying to see it as she did. I'm not a big geranium fan. In fact, I let my sister take most of them and kept just this one. It's been hanging in my 'green house' for almost a week now, and I was noticing how the branches (?) have changed direction, reaching toward the new sunlight. And then I saw it. The first bloom - a small white flower with a hint of purple inside. I had such a sense of wonder - this plant had been shoved in the back of a car. Piled up with other plants. Rattled around on a dirt road, then an asphalt highway and driven at a fast pace to reach another house. Shoved around and mangled a little as it's previous porch-mates were chosen or reorganized. Then, off to it's final destination. Hung by it's chain in the garden area and watered (much out of pity) and left to see what would happen.
It bloomed.
It helps me when I think about my parents. I would love to see how they are faring - see what they see and feel as they get their details settled, house put down, furniture arranged. I would like to see how the changes affect them - temperature, humidity, geography, culture. They, too, have been rattled around trying to make decisions. Packing away treasures, and giving away treasures. Final chores, final purchases, final sales, final farewells. Then scooting down the road in a breakneck pace to make it before the moving truck arrives with items to help them feel at home.
I have a feeling they are doing much as my geranium. Adjusting to the new light. Spreading their branches. And...peeping underneath, blooming.
It's a great comfort to me that the Light is the same. The same Jesus is with them there as was with them here. The same warmth holds them, waters them, feeds them, and enjoys their blooming.
Welcome home, both of you. The geranium, and the parents. May you both enjoy your new geography for many years to come.
