The adage ‘stop and smell the flowers’ has always flooded my brain with shame at my perceived lack of appreciation and general busyness.
Burdensome images of having to intentionally stop in the rush of my busy day, awkwardly bend down (not easy for this tall gal) and fabricate feelings of pleasure at something that others must really enjoy – when in reality I’m worried about watery eyes, an itchy throat, stainy pollen and fretting whether I’m decent from behind – not to mention the danger of stray insects. For me, smelling the flowers is in fact more an unpleasant chore.
Until 10 minutes ago.
I was completely surprised by a sweet fresh aroma on my soggy early dawn walk into work. It came as such an unexpected gift that I couldn’t help but breathe deeply and give thanks for the teasingly brief scent. And then it dawned on me. Taking time to smell the flowers may be more than just pushing one’s face into a bush and inhaling botanicals.
Perhaps rather it’s a posture in which I am continuously poised to recognize and appreciate beauty as it arises – even in the most unexpected places, and possibly with no effort on my part.
In the midst of this season laden with hard work, I am learning the necessity of eagerly embracing the grace of these glorious moments. Moments where I can wholly enjoy a delight, with no panic about it ending, or disillusion that it could always be like this. Yes, the greedy, immature, consumer driven part of me still searched for the source of the fragrance and you can bet I would have googled and sourced it for my own garden had I of found it..
Regardless, I feel like the revelation of this encounter has carried me one step further along the road of becoming thankful simply for what is.
Your mercies are new every morning
Amen
One Hungry Soul 
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