I love to go hiking in the spring just so I can ferret out wildflowers. Trout lilies, showy orchis, trillium and dwarf iris are all pretty common in my area. The real prizes are lady slippers (I’ve found pink, but never yellow), shooting stars and the trailing arbutus I’ve yet to find, but know must be out there. And, of course there are jack-in-the-pulpits to be found most all summer long.
I don’t much look for these gems while walking Thistle along our rural road. There are daisies, queen anne’s lace, chicory, mountain laurel and rhododendron aplenty, but the woodland gems typically stick to, well, the woods.
So I was surprised and delighted to discover a jack-in-the-pulpit flourishing in a neighbor’s ditch. It’s the only one, growing in a mucky stretch of ditch with plenty of grass and weeds, but not much else of note botanically. Growing well right were God planted it.
I have some very specific ideas about where I’d like God to plant me. There’s the farmhouse on 10 acres–the job that’s challenging, but not too much–the spot on the Christian bestseller list . . . Yes, nice garden spots, those.
But God has and most likely will plant me in some very different locales. And like the ditched jack-in-the-pulpit, my job is to flourish regardless. I’m hoping for a rose garden, but know that if God plants me on a dung heap, He’ll give me what I need to grow.