A CHRISTMAS FLOWER

My yard—front, sides and back—has a serendipity of flowers. I didn't plant them. I occasionally water them and knock the weeds back that persist in competing fiercely for the space they innocently occupy. I do not have a green thumb, but I have kept them going for the last six years. There are azaleas, which surround three sides of the house and border the back fence. There are tea and hedge roses of pink, red and white varieties. There are amaryllis, various lilies, purple iris, gladiolas, Japanese magnolia, one yellow peace rose, gloriosa vines, crepe myrtle, shrimp plants and a few I don't know. But my favorites are the camelias. We have white, pink, red and variegated.

I like the camelias for a very simple reason—they generally bloom around Christmas, a gorgeous and risky possibility at what is otherwise a fairly dreary time of year. Much like Jesus, they come unannounced and unnoticed. One day they are firm green buds and the next full bloomed in lush, vibrant glory amidst the winter gray and gloom.

The main reason I have grown so fond of all the flowers is the promise they represent. Ours were planted by previous owners of the house and obviously lovingly tended. This couple probably built the house, which is about 50 years old, and lived in it until they died about ten years ago. All I know of them is that he was a Freemason and they were not well liked in the neighborhood (according to our backfence neighbor, who remembers them).

When we moved in, all that had been kept up for some time was the grass. The shrubbery was all overgrown, weed and scruboak infested. Honeysuckle, Virginia creeper, blackberry vines and smilax were all interwoven with the bushes. We spent several weekends hauling mountains of unwanted vegetation to the curb to be hauled away.

What moves me to reverence is the thought that people unnoticed, disliked and never missed from the neighborhood would have left such a beautiful legacy. I never knew them, and I don't know what their intentions were, but I am moved to pray for them and to thank them for the joy their gift has left in our lives and the lives of others. These are indeed the neighbors Jesus asked us to love as we love ourselves.

ADDENDUM

A number of people have found this story sad. I didn't consider it in that light. Jesus Christ suffered the ultimate rejection, death on the cross, with all but his followers scorning him. That was sad. Even in that sadness we rejoice in his Resurrection, with Easter being the pinnacle of our Christian happiness. We have been given salvation and eternal life in His death. I feel in a parallel way about our flowers and their originators. Here were an elderly couple, growing beauty amidst dislike. Years past their death that beauty lives on. The lesson and reason in one package is a simple one—love my neighbor. Otherwise, I will never see the beauty that lies within. So I guess that what is sad about this story is not the previous owners. It is the neighborhood that didn't persist in seeking out the beauty they had to offer.

Merry Christmas!

©Philip E. Hodgkins 2001