We're learning to be tillers of the soil. Actually, Nancy's learning and I'm standing on the porch ... or just inside the kitchen door ... or reclining in my easy chair giving moral support.

Nancy's always been the flower person in the family. I'm the mow-and-trim man. That division of labor became more important to me when we moved to our new house where the lawn is very tiny and the flower beds are extensive.

Nancy actually spends time thinking about the seasons and what things will grow. She even reads planting instructions and carefully mixes soil with peat moss and other natural nutrients. As a result, the vegetation around us has flourished. Given the fact that I do nothing to produce this bounty of beauty, I am ecstatic.

In consultation with our 3-year-old granddaughter, Landrye, Nancy decided to plant morning glories last summer in two tracts easily visible from the kitchen table. When these two important women in my life announced the planting decision to me, I did my best to act excited and to imagine with them what such flora would add to our vista. Over time, the plants began to grow. On strings she had provided, Nancy carefully wrapped the little vines. Water was carried to them. Additional nutrients were added.

The northernmost plantings sprang forward rapidly. The vines made it to the tops of the fence and soon multi-colors of blossoms were opening each morning. The flowers also seemed to attract large, hungry insects. Despite their ravaging feast on the leaves, the thinning vines continued to bloom.

In the south flowerbed, the vines came up more slowly. But then, it was as if an injection of growth hormone had been administered. The vines went crazy. Beautifully lush and green. And the insects that were dining just thirty feet to the north largely ignored this band of late bloomers.

"Late bloomers" really didn't seem to fit, at first. Even though the vines matured wonderfully, we saw no blossoms. Nancy theorized that she had planted old seed on that side of the yard.

And then early one morning, I was heading back inside after feeding the dogs and I saw a little glimpse of blue. I asked Nancy if she had noticed. She looked out and counted a handful of flowers. Still, there was the lingering doubt about the genetic make-up – how could the vine be so healthy, yet so underproductive?

In the coming weeks, a few more flowers unfolded. Then one morning, after returning home from a short trip, I ventured out back to reconnect with the dogs. The sun was just peaking up over the horizon and there was a glow through the fence and into the foliage. And with that unique backlighting, I could see nothing but blue morning glories. A solid wall of color!

God works in His time.
What had once been a spot of disappointment in our gardening world had become crowning glory. As visitors came to our house, we told them the story over and over about how suddenly, after our hope had completely disappeared, we had been blessed by this absolutely gorgeous, God-given display.

It makes me think of some special people in my life. I think of how they were planted and watered and fed. How some grew slowly and their blossoms remained hidden. And I remember those moments when they suddenly bloomed. Inspired by God and filled with the Spirit, they lifted their heads to new life and new love.

I can't help but think of others who have yet to bloom. However, the vision of that slow-moving vine brings me hope and lets me sleep at night. God works in His time.

I look forward to that sunrise when I'll see these folks in a new light. My breath will catch in my throat as I see a spectacular wall of color. God works in His time. He will work wonders in these people. That will be a day when I truly see morning glory.

Shine on!