I love to walk down near the pond in the winter. There is always something interesting to see—the frozen ice formations, a lone goose navigating the slippery pond, the bare tree roots rising from the hard, cold ground and the soft, subtle green moss holding on for dear life.
Moss has all kinds of ways to keep on keepin’ on, even in the harshest weather. It lays low, out of the bitter wind. It doesn’t have deep roots, so is not dependent on the ground it covers. It thrives in the shade and doesn’t need constant nourishment, but waits for those opportune times to flourish. When my feet tread on green moss in February, I smile. With God, there is always life waiting in the wings.
Moss reproduces with hearty spores, but when I think of growing plants, I think of seeds and seasons. I grow tithonia, or Mexican sunflowers, every summer beside my porch. I turn up the ground in spring and drop in the tiny seeds, covering them up with expectation. I water them, shoo the dog, and for a few weeks, may think no more about them. I trust they are coming, I know how seeds work. I’ve seen it over and over every spring for decades. I have faith. One day my tiny tithonia arrive, I see them wave at me from their plot. They are sprouts, but they are here and they promise big tall bushy blooms of orange. So still I wait.
Therefore, return to your God, observe kindness and justice, and wait for your God continually. Hosea 12:6
Meeting God at the Park 