In late August moving into September, when the rest of the garden is showing signs of exhaustion, clematis paniculata blooms. This deciduous vine, a native of New Zealand, reveals masses of star-shaped, creamy-white and sweetly scented flowers. Here, called Sweet Autumn, it is growing over a stone wall. The Maori Polynesian people call the plant, puawhanaga which means flower of the skies.
All of this loveliness is shared by little flowers no more than an inch across. I can't pass by without sticking my nose into the white clusters and inhaling deeply. Little flowers with a big delivery!
Jesus is a master of little things that furnish a big divine message:
a group of shepherds at his birth — considered God's little ones.
a little girl raised up talitha koum
a lost sheep (I have always imagined to be a lamb)
a hen with her chicks
a little pearl
a little yeast
a little boy's gift of a little fish and a little bread that feeds thousands
a poor widow's littlest coin
a lot of seed thrown, but a little bit landing safely
a little sparrow
a cluster of mothers escorting their little children
a little boat on a stormy sea
a little Easter morning breakfast for friends
a little cup of water
a Passover passing a little bit of bread and wine
There are as well the little things of life full of meaning:
We come into the world as little.
At an early age we learn the power of the littlest words, Please and Thank you.
We are baptized with a little bit of water.
My first catechism was a little blue book.
At Mass we receive the little Bread we call Bread of Life.
We end our prayers with the little word Amen.
Even through the night there's the little flame by the tabernacle.
As children perhaps we developed an appreciation for life planting little seeds;
caring for little animals.
"It needs a little salt," we say.
A little cricket's chirping can fill an entire garden.
To send a little note; a little gift.
A vignette (from the French vigne, meaning little vine) is a short, evocative life moment, a kind of frozen scene which invites some emotional response. I take care of a garth (a low walled garden) in an old church cemetery. This morning I watered the garden very early, even before there was full light. Before rolling up the hose I quickly washed off the bluestone slabs which cap the stone wall all around. It only took a moment to bend over to turn off the faucet, but in that split second, already a robin had flown down out of a nearby tree to have a drink from the water that had puddled in the shallow irregularities of the stone. I stood watching for a full minute while he filled up. Then he flew off.
Our lives are filled with these little "frozen" moments. The earth is charged with God's energies and gifts. I want to watch and listen so as not to miss them.
