I think this big pot of flowers is kinda pretty. Sitting on my front stoop it dresses up an otherwise nondescript landing. At a glance it looks rather refined in the large stately planter. Upon further review one might discover that the pot is actually plastic. The faux cement urn is a stately planter wannabe. But I love it better than an actual antique because it’s light enough to haul around and doesn’t crack when I hoist it to the place it looks best. A plant-wise daughter commented that the purple foliage is some sort of weed I keep bringing in each winter to save on a sunny windowsill. Whatever dear. I love it.

The ivy is leftover from a Christmas tree I fashioned one winter in the same planter. Twisted around an upside down tomato cage shaped into a cone with tiny lights, it looked rather elegant in a redneck topiary kind of way. Apparently even ivy must be watered for alas, my ivy tree turned brown when that small detail never entered my teeny tiny brain.

The little striped vine is Wandering Jew, or should I say Nomadic Israelite. Like its namesake it is strong and thrives anywhere it has the privilege of landing. The delicate pink flower in front is a happy little remnant of my Mother’s Day gift which did not survive the June from Hell we experienced here in N.C. A little water might’ve helped but alas… teeny tiny brain. Thankfully I pinched off a piece of the beautiful petunia and stuck it in my planter before it was eternally too late.

All these happy remnants crammed together in a plastic pot look better together than they would on their own. Some have survived harsh winters on a Southern windowsill. Others sprouted in foreign soil only to be nurtured and elevated as beautiful. Some fill in the gaps just doing what they do. Others add a unique flair wherever they find themselves.

It reminds me of home… as in land of the free and home of the brave. So many treasures crammed in a big resilient pot we call America. If only we could stop with the finger wagging and name calling. If we could look for the value in folks we might discover that we actually complement each other with all our differences.

For those who bear the Name of Jesus Christ, do we remember His charge to us? The instruction He gave which fulfills all of Scripture? You know… His top two commandments which trump all others:

Love God.

Love people.

It’s the simplest hardest thing we’ll ever do.

When haters hate and government governs and evil seems to win, our job is to love the ones we find in the pot beside us. May we follow the precious example of the families of those slain in Charleston as we purposely love. For love trumps all other Scripture. It is God’s plan and the best and only hope for our country.

What? Are you wagging your finger at me? Whatever dear. I guess I’ll have to purposely love you… which might be rather difficult.

But with God’s help surely not impossible.