Wisdom Ways of the Bromeliad

I think I’ve had this plant, a “bromeliad”, for about 6 or 7 years.  Bernadine gave me a couple young sprouts and told me that it only flowers once in its life, pushes out new sprouts from the roots, and then dies.  You probably remember this wild, overgrown, not-so-lovely plant.  I planted 2 young sprouts together, and they divided into two more sprouts even though I did not have any flowering.

I considered dumping the plant several times, or pulling it apart to see if it would flower.  Last summer I had it outside in hopes something would jump start a bloom.  Nope.

This summer it was parked on the post on the front porch, shady, didn’t get much rain, and pretty much was ignored.  One of the sprouts   withered and died.  And then….

It was days just before leaving home for three weeks away,  Camp Sunshine and then two weeks of vacation, thatwhile watering I noticed a white thingy deep inside one of the plants while giving it a final watering.   CRAP! I thought.  It’s gonna bloom while we are gone.  Nope.  Very slowly it reached upward and began to unfold.  Each day a bit more.  We took a photo when we thought is was fully opened.  Nope, it opened more to reveal those purple parts and then some red parts, and still it changes slightly with each new day.  I touched the bloom and its hard and spikey, pokey, and no fragrance, but amazing still.  Every day it brings me delight.  And a second white sprout is emerging in a deep leaf well next to the first.  Depending on how long the first bloom lasts, we may have 2 at once.

I am trying to listen to the wisdom ways of the bromeliad: be patient in the unfolding of life.   Sometime just “let it be” and don’t try to make something happen when the time is not right or ready yet. Don’t give up on the potential that lies within – the possibilities keep hope alive. Keep watching.  How life unfolds may be surprising; beauty and joy may also have its prickles.  And, this flower and life won’t last forever: enjoy the moment even as its inevitable death gives way to another life within.

Home Wrecking on International Day of Peace

Time to gather in

piles of wood cut in Spring-time –

deadwood carefully taken  

down

before nesting season

and loosely stacked for summer’s drying.

As September’s chilly mornings set in

its all too clear that winter’s coming

and hearth needs tending;

time to collect, split, and restack

that which will provide our comfort,

warmth and security when

snow begins to fly.

With wheel-barrow in hand

I march into the woods,

claiming summer’s undisturbed

pyramids of logs

only to discover another has

taken up residence in my pilings.

Little Graymouse tumbles out

while grabbing leaning timber –

scurrying under and up and

tumbling out again with another grab.

In the sheltered place down under

patted earth reveals

stashes of acorns and seeds;

preparations for the bleaker times

while I continue to slowly dismantle

a refuge prepared for the season to come

in order to prepare for mine.

Reclaiming fuel for my fire

mouse house dwindles

until Graymouse desperately

climbs the sapling Maple whose base

once served as home.

Racing higher and higher and

out on a precarious thread of a branch

20 feet above,

Graymouse watches

as I guiltily place the last kindling bits

into my barrow.

And so it goes with the very next pile:

another Graymouse and another home

destroyed so my winter will be secure.

I stop and stand accused – watching

as they watch me in silence.

Why is my warmth and security

more valuable than a small gray creature?

How is it that I can so easily

dismantle, displace, and disregard

this small creature?

It is only a mouse.

Yet compassion and guilt arise.

Where will they find home?

Will they be secure?

Should I replace the logs and

secure another home?  Can I fix this?

In compassion and guilt and desire

to mend the life of Graymouse,

do I consider the ways

of the many other homeless near at hand?

or those multitudes in desperate lands 

whose homes are destroyed without thought?

Will warmth and security come?

Who will cry out for those

displaced by terror or whim?

Who am I to be…

for Graymouse?  for the homeless?

for those nearby or far away? 

for those longing for security,

comfort, and peace?

Lord, grant me wisdom and courage,

to be moved by compassion,

to be a maker of peace,

to pay attention to all your beloved,

both great and small.

Help me know what to do, and to do it.