Crepe myrtles are the herpes of Texas - they spring up everywhere and they’re impossible to kill. They are lovely to look at though. So I guess there’s one minor difference.
We have two crepe myrtles at our house - one of which rains its white petals down into goopy mounds in the back yard day after annoying day and the other I usually forget exists. I just discovered it yesterday (for the fifth time) as Jason & I were driving past the house on our way out. In my defense, the tree is tucked in the corner of our front yard abutting the excessive stone entry to our little street. So it barely grows and hardly blooms. It’s a mild case of pretty warts.
But I love this particular virus because of its color! Instead of parading a bland, typical show of white or pink like everybody else, this guy flashes strong magenta. A powerful, bold color on a small, hidden tree just speaks to me. So I commented to Jason as he assessed oncoming traffic and I gazed out my window like the passenger princess I am, “I love our front crepe myrtle. I never see that color anywhere else around here…” [wistfully glance out windshield toward intersection where we turn left or right 4 times a day exactly 200 feet from own front door] “…they’re always a boring white or pink but not ours. Only our yard has one in magenta. Literally nowhere…” [eyes land on the car wash where our street dead ends 250 feet from own front door. Where there are three magenta crepe myrtles blooming directly in front of me.] “… oh.” Jason was snickering.
Okay yes. I’m rather oblivious to my physical surroundings. I admit it. I notice hair cuts a week late (if at all). I might ask coworkers if something is different when they shave their beards or get new face decor. I very well might not. Once I see something, though, I see it everywhere. I’m a poster child for the frequency illusion.
You know what’s so frequent as to become background noise in the media onslaught of modern times? Death, destruction, cruelty, fear, hate, inadequacy, discontent, desperation, & pain. The proffered solutions of power & pleasure are equally inescapable, and they come in assorted flavors - beauty, competition, violence, sex, alcohol, stuff, & more stuff. All with 2-hour delivery or a 7-day trial. We see them “all the time.” We see them so much we barely see them at all. They are ubiquitous white crepe myrtles whose soggy petals clog drains & mowers. Just plain viral warts.
Maybe that’s why Psalms 92 tells us to search for magenta blossoms every day, twice a day:
It is good to give thanks to the Lord,
to sing praises to the Most High.
It is good to proclaim your unfailing love in the morning,
your faithfulness in the evening,
Psalms 92:1-2 NLT
Perhaps giving praise is as much for our benefit as for God’s. His unfailing love and faithfulness are there whether we see them or not. Maybe you drive past them 4 times a day 250 feet from your front door, and you never notice. If you can find them in your front yard, you’ll see them at the car wash, too. Don’t let media saturation convince us fear is the only reality and power its only remedy. That’s a very profitable illusion, and the ones who gain from it are neither you nor me.
This truth is even more important today than it was two days ago when I typed “Crepe myrtles are…” The world is different today. Friday, I read Psalm 92 and found nothing readily applicable. I prayed for an insight to develop over the weekend, and I slowly wrote what came to mind. Today, Sunday, I read my country bombed another to ostensibly prevent nuclear war. Yesterday’s insight now seems both portentous and naive. Fear, pain, and suffering are glaringly real today, far beyond baseline monetization. God’s magenta of unfailing love and faithfulness is real too, and I must seek it, see it, sing it or I’ll miss it. Today no other comfort will suffice.
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