Vibrant yellow and purple pansies have poked their nodding heads up in front of our house this week. Encouraged by the sunshine, they were there to greet us cheerfully as my mom, grandma, and I returned this afternoon from a lunch out at a local restaurant. I was focused on getting my stuff out of the car and opening the door for "Abuela" (what we call my 97-year-old grandma - it's Spanish for "grandmother"), when suddenly the squeaking wheels of her walker stopped. I turned to see if something was wrong, and saw her stooping over to examine the delicate blooms.
"I was just noticing," she said softly, "that this flower has three petals, and the rest of them have four." I was about to give some explanation about how it probably lost one of its petals, or maybe we just can't see the other petal, when Abuela straightened up again, looked at me and smiled. "Well, that's alright, if that's the way the Lord made it." And she continued her slow steps towards the door.
My grandmother doesn't speak very often, and she doesn't say very much. When she does say something, I pay attention. And so I've been pondering what she said this afternoon. It seems I'm always too quick to come up with explanations for how or why something is different than I think it should be. I question God and ask Him why He does things that don't make sense to me.
But if I don't seem to have as many "petals" as others, maybe it's just because it's the way the Lord made me. And no other explanation is necessary.
