Favorite Experience Recorded in My Journal

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I loved riding along the California coast

… and enjoying the plants, so different from those of the desert and of the Midwest.

Five years before the events of this story Hubby had decided we would move back to the Midwest, and separation from folks who had given me support had been costly to my spiritual health.  Hubby felt that if I spent a couple of weeks back at the retreat on the coast I would be renewed.

He didn’t understand how I had changed in those five years.  He didn’t know that I no longer belonged in any sacred place because I would sully the vibrations.  He didn’t know, and he insisted that I go, and now it was the day of the flight.

It was a holy season, and I had enjoyed taking my time choosing flowers for it.  They were pale yellow daisies and soft white spider mums.  They were beautiful in my meditation room, arranged pure and simply with no greenery; and this morning, when I went in, my heart leaped seeing them.  My little mind knew that they must be a sign that I belonged here–not on the coast.

When Hubby led me outside I turned and saw what seemed to be a miracle nestled to the right of the door.  A couple of years before I had planted a two-foot circle of yellow daffodils there, and this day they were at the peak of their bloom but, this year, there were also wild blue and white jump-ups which had migrated over and crowded in among them and were also blooming zealously.   It was from heaven; certainly another sign that this was where I belonged, and I was miserable because of the desecration I was being forced to commit.

But  here I was, taking my beloved slow route up the coast.  The ocean and the exotic plants were there – right there — but the exultation that I thought I would never lose at seeing them was gone.

Finally I was standing at the gate, staring– and crying.  When I finally pushed it open I saw, nestled to the right of the door, a circle, about two feet across, of yellow daffodils with blue and white jump-ups crowded among them.  My mind, not quite overwhelmed, said, “How odd that such plants would be in this place. What a very strange coincidence.”

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I checked in, set my bag in front of my room and hurried to the darkened little chapel where I saw, spotlighted on the altar, an arrangement of pale yellow daisies and soft white spider mums, a pure and simple arrangement with no greenery; and my heart leaped at seeing them.

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Post script:  I have been unable to find a pic of jump-ups like these wild Ozark ones.  I was gifted the ones in our yard by a lady who was trying to stay the extinction of several wild flowers.  Those and their carbon copies in California are the only ones I’ve seen.

PEACE … Nelladell

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