Wild onion

This year the wild onion plants have spread outside the backyard into the front and even the pavement!  I was told that the only way to get rid of them was to uproot all the bulbs and prevent the flower from spreading the seeds - easier said than done.  The same person also said, "It's one time planting and ten years of weeding!" What surprises me is that I haven't seen it anywhere else in the whole of town, except in our house!

However, though a wild plant and grows mad all over the place, the flowers themselves are very beautiful.  So I left some bits of the garden with them because they offered a good contrasting view of white against the brick walls.

The Pilgrim's way, Guildford

This morning four of us from the community went out for a walk to Guildford.  We took the pilgrim's way upto St Martha's church on top of the hill, through the woods.  It was a good trek.  However, the Church was not open so we couldn't go in.  But the walk was great.  Then we came round to the town centre had something to eat before starting back.  Being a bank holiday (meaning everthing on holiday!), and the fact that it was bright and sunny (highest temperature of this year - 28c) there were quite a few people out enjoying the sun. 

St Martha's

I guess, it's a Norman castle... but the view of the trees was great!

God's Rosebud!

An interesting anecdote and poem about discernment. 

A new minister was walking with an older, more seasoned minister in the garden one day. Feeling a bit insecure about what God had for him to do, he was asking the older preacher for some advice.

The older preacher walked up to a rosebush and handed the young preacher a rosebud and told him to open it without tearing off any petals. The young preacher looked in disbelief at the older preacher and was trying to figure out what a rosebud could possibly have to do with his wanting to know the will of God for his life and ministry. But, because of his great respect for the older preacher, he proceeded to try to unfold the rose, while keeping every petal intact. It wasn't long before he realized how impossible this was to do.

Noticing the younger preacher's inability to unfold the rosebud without tearing it, the older preacher began to recite the following poem...

It is only a tiny rosebud, 

A flower of God's design; 

But, I cannot unfold the petals 

With these clumsy hands of mine. 

The secret of unfolding flowers 

Is not known to such as I. 

GOD opens this flower so easily, 

But, in my hands they die.

If I cannot unfold a rosebud, 

This flower of God's design, 

Then, how can I have the wisdom 

To unfold this life of mine?

So, I'll trust in God for leading 

Each moment of my day. 

I will look to God for guidance 

In each step along the way.

The path that lies before me, 

Only my Lord and Savior knows. 

I'll trust God to unfold the moments, 

Just as He unfolds the rose.

Certain hope

We do so many things in life, some of which are clearly geared towards a far distant dream.  We are hopeful and in a sense sure of achieving that dream - we wouldn't be spending all that time and energy if we were not 'so sure'.  However, not everything has to go our way either.  Things may go haywire and our sustained and years of effort may be totally lost, in view of the intended purpose.  It certainly causes pain and heartache. But I think what causes real pain and suffering is when you realize that the effort is 'wasted' not because it was worthless or you failed, but for some silly and absolutely ridiculous reason as your caste, or religion, place of birth, or some else's like or dislike. How to face angst? Helpless anger?

To see a life, especially a young promising and enthusiastic life, killed in some senseless violence.   To see an activist being murdered for fighting what everyone knows is a just cause.  To hear of a whole family shattered by the rape of a young daughter, only because they belonged to a particular caste, or religion or section of society.  To come to know of a friend who has been denied promotion or benefits due to him only on account of him being of a different group than the one in authority... all of this puts to question the notion of having a dream, slogging it out for it... If all one works for can be wiped off by something so trivial and for no reason, then why strain? 

Yet we do!  We invest our time and energy in our plans.  We slog it out for our dreams.  We plan for years ahead of us.  We hope! If we let doubts or fears grow, we'd not be able to do anything at all! 

(But merely having hope is like walking carefully through a minefield - hoping that we do not step on one!  As long as I'm not the one stepping on, everything is fine.  Doing something about the minefield itself is an act of courage.)  

Being privileged and contented

Speaking of being favourites and being favoured, I remember distinctly reading long time ago how the boys at the oratory fought with one another claiming to be the favourite of Don Bosco! 

At the oratory there were boys from different backgrounds, though mostly poor, and of different ages.  Some had only seen the worst of life.  Others had for sometime been loved and cared for.  Those experiencing love for the first time at the oratory, for that matter anyone at all showing some concern for them, surely would have felt great.  Of these some would have wanted 'more', failing to cherish what they already were experiencing.  Others would have felt great just to be loved.  They would not have bothered whether someone else is loved 'greater' than them.  For them to be loved was in itself a great experience. 

However, am sure only those who felt contented with the love they received, felt 'privilege'd in that sense, AND wished to share that privilege, made a difference in the lives of others.  The rest, simply drowned in the pool of 'privilege' - never thinking beyond themselves.  

Favourite people?

I've often heard priests preach on the main theme of today's reading from the Acts of the apostles, where we see Peter telling, "God has no favourites."  Really?  But the whole history of the world and recorded testaments of religious show that God does have favourites: he chose Israel over other nations, did all those wonders and miracles for them, restored them their land, guided them and led them through the centuries, then when he wanted to send his son, he again chose the same Israelites.  Not only that even among them he had the tribe of Judah as the favourite.  When Jesus came on earth, he chose the twelve as apostles, and among them John was cited 'as beloved' of the Master. 

However, that can be said to be one side of the story.  Viewed from God's side (if we may), I think God loves all.  That's it.  He isn't loving one more than the other.  But those who experience his love and are moved by that, feel privileged.  Those who feel that 'others' are privileged, often fail to see how blessed they themselves are! But we always calculate our blessings on the basis of what we do not have rather than what we have!  Or worse, on the basis of what other have and I do not! 

The danger is when those who feel 'privileged' or are seen by others as 'privileged' start to act differently.  Those who honestly experience God's love, will not differentiate or discriminate, least of all, look down on others.  They'd prefer to share that privilege in their own way with others, joyfully. 

So it is right to say that God has no favourites? Perhaps the better way to say it is that God loves us and I am his favourite!  

Salesian summer bloom

Today while working in the garden, a confrere said, "Anyone looking at you now will know that you're not local! Only Indians can be wearing flip flops while working in the garden!" and both of us laughed.  I said, "What's the thrill in working in the garden if you cannot feel the grass at your feet and touch the mud with your bare hands?"  Most locals working in their garden tend to wear shoes, rough jeans, a pair of gloves, a hat and some even an apron.  And if they are mowing the lawn or trimming the hedges, then there is the additional gear: helmet with a visor or protective glasses.  My working gear: an old t-shirt, a pair of shorts and slippers (the last one is often dispensed with)! And I'm enjoying it!

The flower near Don Bosco's statue has fully blossomed and the other two buds on the plant too are blooming...

Other flowers and plants are really beginning to bloom.  I'm done with all the seeding.  Spent the past two days making cuttings of some of the plants and hopefully they should take root in the coming months.  Every plant that I bought at the garden centre has been 'multiplied'... each of the dainthus has been made into four!  So far so good.  Once they really take root, I'll put them out in the open.  The pansies are looking great.  The petunias are growing well. However out of the six plants that I got, four are of the same colour!!  Should get a few more of other colours.  From the six I bought, I've already made 12!  That's just the beginning!  They'll soon be a few dozen more!

Summer bloom

Some shots of the University 'forest'...

 This particular bush is a thorny one. But each node where there is a thorn and a leaf, there is a flower too!!  Very tiny but very beautiful!

Feels like home

Feels like home to me... a lovely song with a very deep emotional pull.

Situate the song in the movie, My sister's keeper and it's all the more powerful and moving.

Something in your eyes 
Makes me want to lose myself 
Makes me want to lose myself 
In your arms 
There's something in your voice 
Makes my heart beat fast 
Hope this feeling lasts 
The rest of my life 
If you knew how lonely my life has been 
And how long I've been so alone 
If you knew how I wanted someone to come along 
And change my life the way you've done 

It feels like home to me 
It feels like home to me 
It feels like I'm all the way back where I come from 
It feels like home to me 
It feels like home to me 
Feels like I'm all the way back where I belong 

A window breaks down a long dark street 
And a siren wails in the night 
But I'm alright 'cause I have you here with me 
And I can almost see through the dark there is light 

If you knew how much this moment means to me 
And how long I've waited for your touch 
If you knew how happy you are making me 
I never thought that I'd love anyone so much

(Lyrics by Chantal Kreviazuk)

Healing of the soul

Speaking of children, especially very young ones, I remember watching a particular video of a toddler walking the dog.  But on finding a puddle along the road, he does what children are intrinsically bound to...

Cannot but perfectly agree with one of the comments on this video

The soul is healed being with children. (Fyodor Dostoyevsky)