“Whoa, pull over!” I cry.
Phone in hand, I scramble past the curb. An entire front yard froths with blooms the size of faces — some of the stems six feet tall! — a sea of lavender, white, and magenta phlox, illumined by westerly light.
Dreamer follows me, and their lingering, sunset perfume envelops us, gauzy as spun sugar.
A door slams, and a slender gentleman exits the house.
“This is amazing,” I call. “May I take pictures?”
“Help yourself,” he says, with a grin. “Let me call the owner,” he adds. “She’ll want to meet you.”
A moment later a petite woman draped in bright colors joins us. She grins. Silvery strands thread her waist-long pony tail. “Perfect timing! I’m so glad you’re here!” she cries. “Walk through the arch and I’ll meet you out back.”
Curious, we turn. A flagstone path beckons. We check our watches.
We were en route to a surprise birthday party — a tad nervous, introverts that we are.
Now, it seems we are stepping right out of time . . . and into a corner of Eden. Birdsong ripples. Sculptural swans and angels peer out between fiery dahlias, towering canna lilies. Snowy datura foregrounds a fence.
A screen door bangs. “Here,” says our hostess. “Put these on. I’m going to take pictures, okay? LOTS of pictures. You’re going to love it! Pick a hat.”
Rakish Dreamer winks, tilting a brim.
“Wrap yourself in this,” she tells me, holding out a vintage sable stole. “And this!” She flourishes a black mid-century cocktail hat. It resembles an oversize mussel shell, pierced with a jaunty feather. “Use the garage door mirror,” she urges. “Get everything just right.”
Seems to me our blithe sprite of a guide, her gaiety both palpable and insistent, must be obeyed.
“Stand here, you two,” she directs. “Beside my sign.”
And I, chronic dodger of cameras, mug for the lens. Picture sweeping gestures. Madcap poses. I inhabit the fur, that fetching hat.
What’s happening here?
Gaiety rises. We laugh amid multiple takes — one, a video, with me proclaiming our 50th anniversary this month.
Feels like she’s waited — all her life — for us.
As if our arrival has always been her dearest wish.
We’ve not even exchanged names, yet we all exude contagious delight.
Will heaven be like this?
“I’m throwing a garden party,” she says. “Will you come? Say yes!”
Welcome to prevenient grace. Anticipating your hesitation as well as your secret longing, prevenient grace “goes before you to prepare a place for you.”*
So here’s to the Spirit, nudging its agents of whimsy, offsetting our post-pandemic habit of fearing others.
And here’s to the startling largesse of strangers.
Long live felicity! — each of us fractionally grasping the prodigal child’s wonder.
Belatedly, Dreamer and I recall the party we’re now running late for . . .
No. The party we’re now prepared for:
Two aging adults, at sunset,
beyond grateful to be together,
graced by backyard felicity,
eager to spread gaiety
to others who may have forgotten
what it’s like to be young at heart,
utterly welcomed. Wanted.
If you’ve been recently nudged toward joy, how is it changing you?
Meanwhile, let’s watch for the pure in heart, who “may be as shopworn and clay-footed as [we are], but have somehow kept some inner freshness and innocence intact.” —Buechner, Whistling in the Dark
P.S. In the language of flowers, showstopper “phlox represents pure intentions and commitment to a relationship that outlives youthful infatuation.”
You might also enjoy this post on felicity, from the archives
Beautiful!
Dear Gretchen, thank you!
You are, and have been, for these past eight years, a bedrock blessing in this blogging endeavor. :>)
WANTED !!!
Dear Rena,
Seeing that word in all caps, all by itself, reminds me — yet again — how powerful it is to feel wanted. What a gift that is to me this morning. Thank you!
Such a beautiful young couple of lovebirds in the garden!
I just found this delightful email in my spam folder and was aghast that it had been tossed out.
It is a treasure to see your faces and feel your wonder of it all.
I love phlox, they always take my breath away.
And the welcome that your host and hostess gave you is what we all long for.
This is living at its best.
Blessings.
Gail, you sure know how to affirm life . . . in so many ways. Thanks for venturing under the (virtual) arch with us! My mother grew phlox, and I grow it, too. But mine pales by comparison to the jungle we edged through on the stone pavers. (Mine probably needs more sunshine to thrive. )
So glad to hear the story (rescued from spam) brought you joy. We are keeping your beautiful islands in prayer . . .
And I am keeping your beautiful area in prayer as well. I hope you are not affected by the Oregon fire. You have been on my heart and mind a lot lately.
Gail, I just found this, so sorry for my belated reply. Thank you so much for your prayers! We had our two cars loaded and were ready to evacuate. We are so relieved and grateful to still have this home to enjoy. Thank you for being part of that provision, my friend. Hoping you are safe as well!!
My cheeks hurt from the smile on my face. What beautiful imagery! Flowers are so captivating. If I saw the garden, I would have to stop too! The pictures were so fun to look at, can’t believe that the lady was all ready with the props for pictures in her garden. How wonderful!! We all need to just stop and smell the flowers. Thanks for the smiles and Happy 50th! It was wonderful to see you at the party.
Oh, I know that ache——like wedding face——so many smiles the muscles flag, yet . . . keep turning up the corners of our wonderstruck mouths. I am so glad this brought you joy. I’m a flower lover, too, Janice. And hers were spectacular, all of them hand-watered, daily. Such a labor of love. We were so blessed to see you both at the party. Your beauty is ageless, my friend. Blessings on you both!
Oh, can we please go back next summer when I come?! What a beautiful experience to be treasured. ♥️
I would love to take you to meet her and see her yard. She’s as amazing as her flowers!
Such joy to read. Memories of 40 yeas passing from a season left behind. Rejoicing in being a few steps nearer to eternity waiting to grace our spirit.
Till then continue the gaiety, Tia practice for a timeless moment to come, in God’s splendor.
Dear Tyree, what a deep pleasure to hear from you. (I hear your flute dip and soar in the background of my mind as I type: “Shalom”!).
Thanks so much for reading along. Thank you for entering the joy with us now as well as recalling earlier times shared (some of them blithe, indeed: thinking especially of making music together.
Here’s to gaiety now; eternal celebrations, soon-ish!
This isn’t my flautists is it 🙂
Tyree bennett ?! Well I’ll be !
Ohhh, now I understand your questions. Yes. Tyree! : )
Tyree bennett ?! Well I’ll be !
Hi Chris! Good to hear from you. I was so sorry to miss out on spending time with you.
I’m not sure I follow your questions. Sounds like you’re thinking of “Shalom”?
Dearest Laurie, I am rejoicing with being reminded of the incredible instrumentalist that gave her talents. I am not quite sure how you’re website works but God has been doing amazing work for 40 years with the album that shalom came from simple again has changed hearts all over the world.
Joining you in praising the Maestro. And much of that ministry rises from your sublime skills, imagination, and work ethic. Bless you, my friend, for all the ways you make this hurting world pause over the music you perform, compose, arrange, conduct, envision . . . Long may you play.!And long may the Maestro keep your huge heart and gifts in play, this world over!
Oh how fun! So glad you stopped and shared with us.
Anne, thank you for using the word “stopped.” It reminds me of Moses and the burning bush — that arresting surprise he turned aside to see.
Super-phlox is a minor spectacle, by comparison, but the memory of our diminutive hostess still feels larger than life. I sure hope our encounter attunes me to be on the lookout for revelation, ever-met by the One who relishes showing up in unexpected ways . . .
What a fun post! I feel the gladness in your words, Laurie. Thank you for sharing the “bodacious botanicals” and the exuberant welcome!
Oh, I’m so glad you can feel it, too! I needed a transfusion of joy. Pure delight, waiting in ambush!
Oh dear Laurie, what an encouragement of wonder and beauty this post is, to be reminded of how God goes before us to offer glimpses of his care and love.
And Congratulations – 1973 was a good year, eh?
How very kind of God to speak through flowers and newfound friends…so lovely to see your beautiful smile and those hats! Such joy!
A very good year. And for you two, the fiftieth also, yes? Congratulations!
Half a century, and I love him more than ever.
Aren’t you glad there are hats?!
And helpmates?
And oh, a God of glimpses and grace . . .
Thank you for pressing my internal “delight” button as I read, Laurie! What an angel in disguise, your newfound garden friend. I particularly love the second photo of you and Bill ~ Dreamer, and Scribe leaning in. Happy Phloxy Fiftieth to you both♥
Dear Nancy, thank you for allowing our encounter to sweep you right in! : > )
Just when I think gloom and fear and division are seizing way too much ground, God sends a herald bearing hope.
PS Love Phloxy Fiftieth!
Happy anniversary you two. Beautiful people,and love and so talented. That was a great gift from God in that garden. Many more years friends. Love you both. 😘😘
Thank you, dear Kalya! BTW: it was YOUR party we were late for (so relieved we got there . . . though just barely before you did!)
And yes, we hope for lots more time together —— especially since we finally seem to be getting the hang of it. 😉
Love you both so much!
What a gift! Happy 50th to you two. Love you both bunches and bunches. Blessings…
Gift is the word, a little like early Christmas, complete with charming elf. : > )
Love you two!!!
Just. So. Joyful.!!!!!
As an eyewitness of your joyful wedding 50 short years ago, you both deserved such a bodacious garden event!!! Cheers to more years together!!!
Hi friend, and thank you! And happy birthday, again! I hope you’re celebrating ALL month. When I think back on so many shared years of memories and laughter along the way, I well up a little. Then I feel glad glad glad all over again!
I really don’t have much to say to this post besides, thank you for sharing.
Almost feel like I was there.
I hope you said yes!
These resonate…
Feels like she’s waited — all her life — for us.
Prevenient grace – “goes before you to prepare a place for you.”
The party we’re now prepared for.
I want to be more like that woman.
Rick, I too want to be more like her . . . effervescent, generous, so open and fully present, as ready to play as to reach out in kindness.
Oh–this is glorious (and superbly written, as always)! What surprising, delightful FUN! May I follow that woman’s example and provide serendipity-blessing to those I meet! Thank you, Laurie, for a sublime uplift this afternoon!
You are welcome, with all my heart. Thanks for entering in! Had we been together in the world beyond the arch, I would have offered you the red velvet hat laden with silk roses . . .
I love this story and I love you.
Dear Cris, so great to hear from you! I just want to thank you again, right here, right now, for encouraging me, early, early on, in my writing attempts!
Talk about an ongoing endeavor, and so deeply rewarding when what we manage to say lands gently with another person.
Sending love your way . . .
Inspiring, uplifting ,,smile provoking…congratulations too…
Larry, thank you! It makes my heart happy to know I could render our experience contagious for others.
Wish I could summon my sci-fi super powers and beam us all through the arch for real . . .
I couldn’t love this anymore! I want to be neighbors with this gem of a lady.
Wendie, “gem” is the perfect word. We felt rich afterwards, met in winsome and lavish and playful ways we hadn’t known our souls needed.
You two have already celebrated your 50th, yes? Oh, the wealth of fidelity!
What a lovely post about a lovely experience! We never know the delights the Father has prepared for us. Thank you for sharing it. And I did not know the phlox flower language and am glad to know it now. They are fast becoming a favorite flower!
Oh Linda Jo, yes, so true. We never know—yet another reason to live with expectancy!
Thanks for reading. I’m so glad to share the encounter. I know from your blog that you also love flowers.
I’d written out the whole thing when it occurred to me to check the flower’s meaning. Voila. Another delight!
I also learned that, in earlier times, knights would wear phlox for part of the day, then offer it to their lady, at dusk.
Here, here!! Yes and yes!
Nudged toward joy? I allow myself the audacity of going for a walk in the blazing sun without sunscreen or sun-shirt or hat or visor. This is me casting off fear, which for me is worse than the stats they give me about being more prone to cancers (of all sorts) since my treatment for cancer. HAR. I love the irony. Life is about risk and reward. A walk in the sun leaving fear behind. It’s pretty great.
Great enough that if some cancer invades, the joy remains.
Oh, brava, the sheer breezy freedom of striding along, skin drinking in light. It sounds healing. Years ago, you introduced me to poet Jack Gilbert — he who said, “We must risk delight.”