Herbs & The Mystery of Poverty

It was windy and cold in my garden today, so I could only gaze at my flowers through a window. Late in the day, I went to Home Depot and bought three new herb plants to add to my existing two. On my way home I saw a man walking near the cathedral. I have seen him in the area many times. He looked today, as he always looks, bent over and downtrodden. In cold or heat, he hides under a hoodie. Sometimes he comes to Mass at the cathedral. There, he keeps his head down. At the Sign of Peace, he never greets the people around him or responds to the greetings of others. He appears to personify every aspect of poverty: mental, emotional, and physical. I don’t know if he is homeless. I have never seen him beg. I suspect that his presence among us is somehow significant, even important. He is a mystery. Later at home after dinner, the wind had died, and a gentle rain was falling. I planted my new herbs in the twilight. From left to right above: Italian Oregano, Spearmint, Lavender, Sweet Basil, and Rosemary. The man and the mystery of poverty were still on my mind.

Cactus Blossoms

The cacti in my garden bloom every spring in luscious shades of red, orange, peach, yellow, and pink. Most of the blossoms last only for a day. If I go out of town or forget to go into my garden, I miss them. Like many precious things in life, their beauty is fleeting. The cacti pictured above are an exception. Every spring they are crowned with halos of pink blossoms that last for a couple of weeks. The blossoms are so lovely that I forgive my cacti for the times when I accidentally brush against them and pick up their spines. This morning a particularly nasty one poked through my shoe and stuck my little toe. I REALLY must learn to watch where I’m going.

Volunteers

In a rocky area of my garden, for a few weeks I was pulling up little shoots that kept coming up through the rocks. They were different than the usual weeds that grace my garden, very tough and difficult to dislodge. Then I went out of town for a week. Imagine my surprise when I returned and saw these “weeds” blooming as volunteer lobelia plants from last year’s garden. What a shame I pulled up so many of them before I saw them bloom! The Master Gardener has been busy again.

Garden Care

One thing I’ve learned about gardens is that they need regular care.  My garden is a desert garden.  If I forget to water the tender plants for a few days, there is a good chance I will lose some of them.  I also have to remember to feed them, and I have to regularly remove the spent flowers if I want an abundance of new blossoms to appear.  The shrubs need to be pruned, or they grow spindly and wild.  The walkway needs to be swept, so friends can enjoy the garden when they come to visit.  I am an imperfect gardener, so there is an occasion failure in my garden due to my own fault.  God is the perfect gardener.  As a result of his constant attention and care, I will continue to draw breath, and my heart will continue to beat until it is time for me to meet him face to face.  Praise him!

Chapel Garden

The Carmelite nuns love to adorn the sanctuary of their monastery with flowers, handmade banners, and ribbons around the candles. When I stopped for a moment of prayer yesterday, branches loaded with red roses were spread out profusely in front of the altar. (See attached photo.) The roses took my breath away, but it was the love expressed in the decorations that truly moved me.  All of the nuns’ efforts were for the One who is truly present in the consecrated hosts reserved in the tabernacle – the body, blood, soul, and divinity of our Lord Jesus Christ.

Life

When I pray in the garden, everything I need to know about God is all around me.  The garden is teeming with life – branches, leaves, and flowers sway in the breeze.  Bees buzz, and a hummingbird zooms in close to look at me before gathering nectar from the nearby cherry sage.  God loves life.  God gives life.  God is life.

Christ Remains

Today I drove to Lincoln, New Mexico, one of the most well-preserved Old West towns in the United States.  The infamous Lincoln County War took place there between 1876 and 1879 as two factions struggled for economic control of the area.  Billy the Kid was involved in the murder of the sheriff who had supported the faction he opposed.  Later, after his capture and trial, Billy escaped from the town jail by shooting two of the deputies.  Main Street became known as the most dangerous street in the United States.  In the late 1800s, the town had around 800 residents.  Now, the 50+ residents and the State of New Mexico maintain the historic buildings, including the former Catholic church.  Catholic residents must drive to a nearby town to attend Mass. The old church in Lincoln can be rented by the public for weddings, funerals, and other events.  Yet the crucifix inside remains.  Christ never leaves completely.

The Dreamer

May 1 – the Optional Memorial of St. Joseph the Worker.  It was instituted in 1955 by Pope Pius XII to Christianize the concept of labor as a counterbalance to the international Communist (atheist) celebration of the worker on the same day.  Although I appreciate the value of work as much as the next person, I always think of the saint as St. Joseph the Dreamer.  According to the first two chapters of Matthew, he acted upon his divinely-inspired dreams no less than four times.  As a result of his courage, Jesus lived to fulfill the Father’s will and become the Savior of the world.  May we all have the courage, like St. Joseph, to acknowledge our dreams when they are divinely inspired and act upon them.  Who knows how we might change the world?

Living Water

Today I am walking in a different garden, a mountain forest garden.  There are a few human enhancements: a paved path and a bench here and there, but for the most part this garden remains as God planted it.  There are ponderosa pines, rocks, fallen needles, and an occasional wild flower.  A rushing river runs through it, gushing with melted snow from the peak above in the distance.  White-capped water tumbles over boulders and hurries on its way.  I am reminded of the beautiful words that Jesus spoke to the woman at the well: “The water that I will give will become … a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.”  The ‘living water’ that he promised is traditionally associated with the water that gushed from his side, along with his blood, when he was pierced by the soldier after his death on the cross.  And of course, it also refers to the Holy Spirit, who is given and sealed in our souls at the Sacrament of Baptism.  I am fascinated by the mystery of living water, the gift of God’s very being to his creation.

The Garden, a Saint, and a Birthday

Easter Season – a time of renewal and new life.  My spring garden is at its best.  The afternoons are still cool enough for the violas, yet at the same time warm enough for the petunias and lobelias.  A month ago I planted some nasturtium seeds, and now the young plants are blooming.  I must enjoy them for a few precious weeks before the summer heat scorches them away. Today is my granddaughter’s birthday, and it is also the feast day of St. Catherine of Siena.  I wish all the holy passion of the saint for my granddaughter in all that she does, now and forever.  No matter what life brings her, I pray she will always find renewal and new life in the promise of spring and in the promise of the Resurrection.