GOLDEN ROD
I joined the people grouped around the Departures Board and checked my flight time. When I drifted away from the board I was in the midst of people, and more people milling around me. Some pulled their wheeled baggage with purpose, striding confidently to a known destination. Some gazed around, looking for something or someone.
I had time to spare before my flight out of Sao Paulo to Porto Alegre. My ears strained to understand fragments of conversation in Portuguese spoken as couples or families passed me by. My eyes were dazzled by the vivid colours worn by women wearing low-cut tank tops, shorts and high heels with a large “fashion statement” handbag. Frequent travelers walked with purpose, confidence and ease. Foreign speech, foreign advertisements and foreign food alerted my senses.
I saw myself in the washroom mirror and knew immediately that I was foreign. In that environment I was foreign, speaking halting Portuguese with an English accent, wearing long pants and a bush jacket. I could have been wearing gardening clothes at a wedding!
I already had my boarding pass so I wandered over to the “Lojas”. The gaudy, exotic blooms in a flower shop caught my eye. Tall stems of brilliant Bird of Paradise blooms, delicate and vibrant potted orchids! I drank in the brilliant reds and purples; appreciated the delicate intricacies of symmetrical petals. Then something caught my eye. Peering into the window, I noticed something out of place. A vase of golden rod was on display! Wayside weeds in Canada; an imported luxury in Brazil! At home we ignore it in the wasteland, pull it out if it dares to grow in our yards and avoid it if we have allergies. Here it is on show, proudly with the exotic. Perhaps, here, in Brazil, golden rod is the exotic plant.
I am no exotic beauty! I only stand out in a crowd in Brazil. At home, in Canada, I can slip in and out unnoticed. Ordinary people like me are known, recognized and remembered only by a few. Yet, God’s love extends to us, enfolds us, indwells us. We are not unnoticed by Him.
He sought me out while I sipped soup at the snack shop by the swimming pool. A stranger needed to shed a burden of overwhelming concern and she asked if she might sit at my table.
He seeks us out. He sought out a couple in a motel breakfast room. I was alone and afraid. They offered me a seat at their table. Gentle understanding in their eyes, and pleasant, non-invasive conversation brought healing to my raw soul.
He seeks us out. He sought me out when a stranger phoned to unburden her heart distressed by gross indecency perpetrated upon her. Why me? I do not offer counselling services. But I can pray. God knows my heart. And God know the hearts of others. He seeks us out and places us together.
The Lord is our Shepherd. He leads us to good pasture land. He provides living water. He restores our souls.
by Andrea Kidd
