The fence and the flower

This is the fence between the neighbor’s house and ours.  Notice the gorgeous white oleander bush in their yard, which I see every time I look out the kitchen window.

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But lately there’s something else to see, too:

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I’m not sure how this single blossom managed to find its way through the tiny knothole in the fence, but it did.   Defying all expectations, it’s blooming there, as if the very wood of the fence is alive.

I like it.  It came at a good time.

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When I compare the events of my life to things that are happening in the news, I realize that in the cosmic scale of things, I really don’t have a lot to complain about.  Still, lately I’ve been fixating on life’s little challenges.  The piles of papers to grade, the strained lower back, the infuriatingly slow rush hour traffic, the mystery rash on my son’s elbow, the laundry that never folds itself — sometimes I can’t see over them.  I let them block my view of all that I have to be grateful for.

So this brave little flower growing right through the fence is more than just a neat trick of nature.  It’s a reminder that grace blooms in the smallest spaces, the tiniest cracks, the busiest lives.

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