Sometimes in the midst of life's activities, a glaring, in-your-face angel message pops up on your path. A hard-to-miss messenger that you may quickly acknowledge as you step over it while hurrying to complete your agenda.
That's okay. Angels are patient. They wait in the wings, certain that sooner or later you will come around and understand the full message. Who knows? Maybe that's what divine timing is all about. A loving message to be more patient with yourself, and to let things grow and blossom at your own pace.
Looking back, I can see that now. Something special happened on moving day at our new house.
The wide-terraced steps leading up to the front door had been swept clean except for a small leafy twig on the path. In trying to quickly brush it out of the way, I was in for a big surprise.
It held its ground, firmly rooted. I bent down to get a closer look. Instead of a footloose, fancy-free green leafy twig, I was eye to eye with a friendly little patch of shamrocks. Tiny cheerful yellow blossoms were in bloom. Shamrocks on St. Patrick's Day were a wonderful welcoming gift, and seemed too good to be true. Hunkered down, against all odds, they were doing it! Thriving in a small hole about the size of a quarter.
Admiring such faithful perseverance, I joyfully called out to the movers hauling furniture up the walk. "Watch out for those little shamrocks. They're growing out of the cement!"
One of the movers passing by took a look, saying, "That's a good sign."
"There's your next angel blog." Elliot smiled, carrying a box.
That afternoon with the move complete, the timing had been perfect. President Trump called for a national state of emergency. We were grateful for all of the angelic workers that had delivered us safely to our new home in time to hunker down.
During our time sheltering-in, bigger and brighter things paraded outside our window: red tailed hawks, wild turkeys, rabbits, long-legged, red-headed sandhill cranes and their cute chicks.
The little shamrocks were occasionally noticed, but mostly overlooked.
The little shamrocks were occasionally noticed, but mostly overlooked.
Until yesterday. While watering the red geraniums pots, my attention was drawn to that steadfast patch of bright green shamrocks sticking up on the front walk.
Stooping down, I took a closer look. One little yellow bud was about to bloom. I smiled, remembering that yellow is the color of faith.
Stooping down, I took a closer look. One little yellow bud was about to bloom. I smiled, remembering that yellow is the color of faith.
It seemed important to look up the symbolism of a shamrock. In the Language of Flowers, a shamrock is the symbol for lightheartedness. And, Saint Patrick compared the three leaves on the plant to the Holy Trinity: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
Last night before going to bed, I found myself standing in the dark, looking out the living room window, something I rarely do.
The soft glow of the triple globe lantern in the yard cast a light on the front walk. My heart was at peace as I gratefully looked out at that little shamrock cluster, huddled together, growing stronger day by day in a sea of concrete.
In that reflective moment, I found myself as one with the spirit of all life, and especially those dainty little flowers standing tall in the night shadows. Like them, I hoped to break through hard times while in a tight fix, comforted by the presence of a cluster of family and friends on the journey. To keep having faith and trusting God.
In that reflective moment, I found myself as one with the spirit of all life, and especially those dainty little flowers standing tall in the night shadows. Like them, I hoped to break through hard times while in a tight fix, comforted by the presence of a cluster of family and friends on the journey. To keep having faith and trusting God.
As I was expressing thankfulness for their powerful lesson written in concrete, a sudden movement on the sidewalk brought a tearful smile. I watched a lone little frog hop down the front walk, taking one bold leap at a time.
I could hardly believe the timing.
I could hardly believe the timing.
With an overflowing heart full of gratitude to God and the angels, I went to bed, fondly recalling that F.R.O.G is an acronym to (F)ully (R)ely (On) (G)od.
Love and peace,
Rae Karen
