In the corner of my bedroom there’s a vase containing two of last year’s alliums.
A good friend asked me a few years ago, Verity how do you hear God speak to you? And I was a little flummoxed as I wanted her to remain my friend but I didn’t really think of God in those terms much anymore.
I don’t go to church. I don’t read the bible as I did. I don’t ask much of him as I used to. I don’t pester him with requests and temper my tiresome prayers with praise. But I feel closer to him than ever. And I believe in his goodness and faithfulness.
So I gave her this reply. I find God through metaphor. I also find God in nature and solitude. In stillness and presence. In poetry, and it doesn’t have to be lofty. In everyday things.
Here are some more alliums: this year’s.
They are of course stunning and upright
and glorious. They are also crowded round with self sown nigella which I don’t have the heart to pull out. It would
show the alliums to better advantage but those beauties stand tall and proud anyhow.
And that’s how it is when we’re young. Whether we knew it or not, we were pretty darn gorgeous. I look at young people today and find their youth so beautiful and precious.
(And soon it’s over and you find yourself a dried out husk in the corner of the bedroom. No just joking.)
But who’s to say one is more beautiful than another? They are simply at different stages of being. And the naked elegance of the flower which has dropped its blooms has its own glory. It’s vulnerable but still strong. It has a kind of dignity.
“He has made everything beautiful in its time.” Ecclesiastes 3 v11.