Morning glories

Yesterday, on my way to work, I drove past the local UM Church, generally referred to as the 'lower church' by the long-time residents of my community. That's 'lower' as in at the bottom of the mountain, not 'lower' as in a reflection of its community status. To my joy and amazement, I noticed the edge of the cornfield situated across the road from the church. It was laden with morning glory vines, glowing in varied shades of pink and purple in the sunlight. 

In all my years I've never before seen so many morning glories blooming in one place. I don't know what the farmer might think of it, but it was stunning. I turned the car around and went back to take a few pictures, none of which do justice to the beauty of the moment. 

Moments like that cannot be planned. They simply happen if a person is open to receiving them. Why did I choose to take that road to work yesterday? Whether I take the first or second turn to go to the highway doesn't matter. It's simply a matter of about half a mile on a country road vs. driving that half-mile on a two-lane highway. I have no set preference. Some days I take the first turn, other days the second. Being yesterday was a Friday, had I taken the first turn, I'd never have seen this as it will be Tuesday before I pass that way again and the blooms will be faded by then.

I wonder if that's a metaphor for life. Do we too often jump off on the first road, or opportunity, and miss what the next road has to offer us? We must make choices to move forward in our lives, and yet we often agonize if we're making the right one. And then a 'yesterday' happens to us. 

Among the many things I wanted to do yesterday was call my pension fund manager and get the numbers. How much is in my employee account, how much is in my employer account, and the three pay-out options for me. 

I'm not a big believer in signs. I think when we have a decision to make, our subconscious mind, if given time, works it out for us. What one may suddenly see as a sign, is actually a notice that we've thought about something long enough and it's time to act. Could I be mistaken in that? Certainly.

Was driving on that particular stretch of road to see that amazing vista of morning glories a sign? Was I being shown it's time to take the time to enjoy the simple country pleasures that mean so much to me? Did the universe use that long, long row of morning glories to tell me to be at peace and celebrate my decision? I'd like to think it did.

The Lady of Holly Tree Manor