wistful wisteria

It started out as a humble twig with a handle of flower clusters. Now it tumbles merrily, jubilantly, over our aviary. Each spring, there comes a morning when I round a corner in our yard and catch my breath. I hurry inside and announce to Hubby, "The wisteria is blooming again! Come see!"

     How glorious our humble yard becomes when wisteria blooms. I would also say how glorious the air becomes with the fragrance, but my nose is a bit defective. (Hubby says I don't smell good.) As it is, I have to shove my sniffer into a cluster to catch the perfume...nearly catching stings from bumblebees while I'm at it!

     I grew up with wisteria. My parents gave us the priceless gift of a backyard that was Edenic, full of trees, flowers, butterflies, and birds. They gave us another gift even more precious: a home full of love, laughter, forgiveness, and faith. What amazing grace! (Actually, one of my sisters is Grace, and she is pretty amazing. So are you, Margaret and Mel!)

     I hope you had a wonderful home. Every child deserves such. If you did not, I grieve with you. And I'm pretty sure that, with your compassion and dedication, you have made a wonderful home for somebody, and someone is very grateful for it. Maybe it's a house, maybe not. Maybe it's an open heart. 

     I want to be a leafing tree. I want to be wisteria, so full of God's grace that maybe sometime, somewhere, someone sniffs the air and thinks, "What a lovely, ethereal perfume." And if they see but a glimpse of His beauty in me, I will be happpy.