God is a single blade of grass

We went to visit my parents this weekend, partly because we haven't seen them in a few weeks and partly because it's sweltering here and they have a pool.

We were sitting under the pergola, chatting and enjoying the shade and the breeze from the ceiling fan. Ma had abandoned her wig, and even her hat. Her head is covered in a soft fine fuzz of white hair, and while it will always be disconcerting for me to see her bald, she actually looks quite good that way.

She was talking about teaching, that she is going to half time next year, and about her students. She said they don't always understand that they will never be perfect, that nature is, even when it seems chaotic.

She said she tells them, if you ever want proof God exists, you only have to try to draw a hexagon. She can't draw a perfect hexagon, but bees build them everyday in their hives. Every one perfect, over and over and over again. Further proof...the single blade of grass that will push its way up through the black top on a paved road...a road that is strong enough to support trucks and cars and people, but can't resist a little green plant. So fragile a thing that a child can rip it from its roots, but so strong, it can make it way to the sunlight regardless of the obstacles.

There are prayers and miracles in everyday things. You just have to look for them.