Little Miracles

Between the cracks of the sidewalk leading to my home and the metal edging lining my front flower bed, a tangle of green emerges with the spring sunshine. It’s unsightly and irritating, but there is an easy solution for weeds.

It’s been a long hard winter and after several late freezes, every sunny day is a neighborhood party. The home improvement stores fill to capacity with shoppers, the trays of flowers disappear like donuts in a kindergarten class. Everyone is desperate for new life and a fresh start after Covid and winter and lock-ins. But after a brief breath of spring, rain swept into Tulsa, Oklahoma, and lasted for weeks. Mowing became a racing game and yardwork stalled.

On Mother’s Day, the sun finally emerged again, and people and plants shook their soggy petals to enjoy the day. Eager to put my own legs in the sun, I spread a towel on my sidewalk, determined to tackle the weeds. But as I bent closer to inspect the green, I discovered a miracle.

You see, in the first rush of spring, the entire world sold out of Vincas. While my friends and neighbors rushed to plant, Matt and I were experiencing major back surgery. Matt had ruptured a disk and everything slid sideways with his pain and then his emergency surgery. Flowers fell off any kind of priority list. We then entered graduation season with my son, recovery for Matt, and with so much else going on in our lives, my head was underwater with the rain. Losing the joy of flowers growing in my front bed seemed trivial in comparison to what we were going through, but to my flower-loving heart, it felt big. However, my Heavenly Father knew not only the large struggles of April and May but the tiny desires of my heart.

And in front of me, on Mother’s day, wedged between sidewalk and the metal edging, I witnessed the proof.

Each tiny leaf of green I’d mistaken for weeds bore the tell-tale stripe that marked them as my flower of choice for my front flower bed. Somehow, through the long record-cold winter, the late freezes, and the flooding rains, the seedlings from last year’s flowers struggled to life. Around a hundred tiny Vincas held their faces to the sun, waiting for me to recognize them.

I had to laugh, marveling at both the miracle in front of me and the moment God chose for the reveal. Mother’s Day. His gift to me. And then my eyes welled with tears as I fingered the baby leaves because I knew that my Heavenly Father, once again, understood what I would need before I needed it and was showing me His goodness.

One at a time, I rescued the fragile plants and buried their roots in new soil within the beds. They were only specks of green lost in brown dirt, but to me, they were a wonder.

It’s been three weeks since I re-planted the Vincas, and not one plant has died. In fact, they are thriving. Their leaves are getting big now and someday soon, petals will appear. I don’t even know the colors, but I know I will love them. Every single day of summer, I will walk out my front door, and see the flowers that my Heavenly Father gave me on Mother’s Day. He planted them last fall, long before they sold out in stores, before the craziness of emergency surgery and everything else life has thrown at us this spring. His provision waited to surprise me. Waited until I had eyes to see. Waited until I leaned in close.

And because I did, my rows of Vincas have become so much more than flowers. If I’d gone with the crowds and bought plants in the Spring, I would have missed a miracle. But I love these flowers so much more. They are reminders of God’s amazing faithfulness. They are reminders that sometimes you have to lean in closer to see the gift. Reminders that God is in the little and the big. But mostly, they remind me of how well He loves.