So loved. So chosen. A Note From Jan.

What a beautiful day! Praise the God of sunshine and puddles. Melting snow.

Went with two friends to tour some greenhouses at the Lyman Estate  in Waltham. One way to scratch an itch for spring. Show time, especially, for the Camellias.

Lifted my spirits, which were not at their saggiest. Hard to be glum when warmed by sunshine and the company of friends. But still possible.

I suppose it’s because of where I am in this life cycle that I took comfort less from blooms than from two off-the-path sightings. One was life growing out of a brick tossed under a table filled with beautiful plants. The other an out of the way table marked “Hospital Bench…plants not for sale.” Sick and pathetic looking plants rested there, awaiting a green thumb or better.

Something stirs in me when I see flowers blooming or life emerging from places illogical; dark niches, cramped crevices.  Even more so with people. Like the billboard off Route 1 that says,”Some people call what you are riding in “home.” God’s prized plants.

Heather called me in the middle of a sob yesterday.  Not about Jud this time. This time it came while I was doing my lesson on the prayer of Saint Patrick. This week’s chapter, Christ to Win Me. (From Marilyn Chandler McEntyre’s book Christ, My Companion…meditations on the prayer of Saint Patrick)

She writes that sometimes we get caught up in religious jargon…focused on how “I found Christ” or how “I came to Christ.” When, in truth, “He is the one who finds us, woos us, wins us, prepares a home for us, gathers us into his care.  And, oddly, in a sense, we are the prize.” That’s what set me to sobbing.  I can think of a lot of names God could call me. “Prize” isn’t one of them. 

At the end of the chapter the author tells a story about Anne Lamott teaching Sunday school to young children.  She begins each class with a simple exercise of identifying and calling each child forward. “Is anyone wearing a blue sweatshirt with a Pokemon on it?” The child comes and is met with, “You are so loved and so chosen.” Each child, uniquely identified and recognized, then basks in that blessing.

Imagine that. Even we, and maybe especially we who feel cast aside in a corner marked, “Not for Sale…sick plant.” We hear the Gardener say, “You are so loved and so chosen.” You in housecoats, aprons, sweatpants, Ugg boots or flip-flops. You in three piece suits, hospital gowns, overalls,or saris. You in hairnet, hijab, turban, helmet, baseball cap or yarmulke. “You are so loved and so chosen.” Christ to win us. Why? Clueless, really. Just overwhelmingly amazed and grateful.