And she sits down, right in the midst of a field of chamomile,
She inhales...and exhales...
And for a few moments, life is okay.
I step out into the garden this morning to receive inspiration of what to write about. I feel the closest to HIM here…here in this place, this garden, even this garden wilderness. I feel the closest to HIM in those areas HE has destined for me to walk.
And here, in this garden, I hear HIM through chamomile. I chuckle at the childhood tale of Peter Rabbit. After an adventurous day of nibbling on forbidden fruit, Peter is sent to bed by his mother with a cup of chamomile tea. How apropos that a naughty and nervous rabbit be given a dose of chamomile tea to calm his nerves and settle his stomach.
Chamomile speaks to me, lately. Matricaria recutita is the species that I’m growing. Imagine my surprise when I realized this season that the chamomile planted last year had left copious amount of itself behind through seeds. And I, without planning, had a bed of chamomile to enjoy. And it has been to advantage; for its properties that are related through steeping a cup of tea, are just as evident during picking.
I’m learning much from her and she seems to have some things that I need at the moment. Chamomile is a well-known herb and is a staple in the herbalist’s medicine cabinet. Indigestion, muscle spasms, tension, inflammation and infection are just a few of the things that the pharmacopoeias have approved chamomile to treat. A soft, gentle, and peaceful herb that’s full of power and potency. A gentle giant.
I said goodbye to a dear friend on yesterday, Ms. Annie Mae is how I referred to her. She was 85. She and I would often share stories and similar interests, such as crocheting. I still have a blanket that she crocheted fro me. She was always giving, always loving and was always herself every time I talked with her.
As preacher eulogized her, he referred to the scripture referencing the Fruit of the Spirit; love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. A stately lady in size, but one who flowed in the grace of the spirit. To know her was to fall in love with her. A gentle giant.
As I reflect on her life legacy, I am reminded of the need to walk in the fruit of the spirit. This walk with HIM that requires not activity and strength, but one that requires a quietness, a settling, a gentle sway in the cool of the day.
Life pressures us to always be about doing something. Hustling, grinding, and trying to make it happen. But HE, gently prods me, through the life of Ms. Annie Mae and through chamomile, to be still, and know that HE is God!
