ATLANTA — In our bedroom there sits a little orchid plant. Most of the time, it is just a collection of nondescript green stalks.
Then, out of the blue, it does something dazzling.
It sends out long hopeful shoots in various directions. And before long, the first dark purple face with yellow stripes appears. It is soon followed by clusters that unfold slowly, one day at a time.
The plant seems to have its own secret agenda, and, as long as it is watered, it will produce this five-star show with little input from us.
It's just a plant, but also a reminder. There are so many beautiful things in our world, but we often miss them.
We get easily ensnared by human affairs. Conflicts in the Middle East, the latest crime statistics and the predictable promises of politicians. We can have so much stuff broiling around in our brains that we forget the truth of the psalmist's words: "Taste and see the goodness of the Lord."
Even in cities, God sends us all kinds of lovely things to see each day. And sometimes I imagine him almost shouting: Did you look at that full moon last night? What do you think about this cloud? And, by the way, have you seen the rose blooming in the side garden?
I almost missed that last one, because I was in the house, stuck in my head. Wondering about a party I would attend that night.
What would I wear? What would I say? Planning tomorrow, but missing today.
On an impulse, I left my study and headed out into the garden. There, I looked around with wonder because it was so overgrown with weeds.
Clearly, I had not been getting out enough lately.
I untangled a vine that was trying to strangle a bush. I also cut away some of the old growth to make room for new.
Then I saw it. A shy little rose, adorned with splashes of yellow and orange. One impulse said to pick it and take it into the house, but another said to leave it. Let someone else enjoy it, I decided — a neighbor or a bird.
God created the first humans in a garden, not in a house or a city, and certainly not in a mall. Our first parents, the Bible reminds us, walked along paths decorated with flowers, trees, and birds and beasts of all kinds. There's a lesson there, I feel.
I once taught at Georgia State University in the heart of downtown Atlanta. Everything, it seemed, had been smothered in concrete. Until one day I saw something else.
Reaching out between the cracks of the heavy cement walls were tiny tendrils of green. The little fingers were stretching toward the sunlight. Then I saw a bird's nest tucked away in the crook of a doorway. Two splendid reminders of God's presence.
When my husband and I go to the ocean, the abundance of nature seems astonishing. We delight in boisterously bright sunsets and clouds blustering across the sky like ships at sea.
By comparison, the city may seem drab. But in fact, it is teeming with sparkling life.
The little orchid plant sits quietly in our room. I think it is planning to bloom again soon.
It is reminding me to do what the psalmist recommends: Take a look around. Take a walk outside. Celebrate the goodness of the Lord.
This column was published in The Atlanta Journal-Constitution. E-mail: lorrainevmurray AT yahoo.com