Flowers of the Field
Slate gray clouds settle like a comforter over the distant hills. A spill of golden light gleams at the crest of the valley in the last lantern glow of sunset. Trees stretch and sway in the evening breeze. A little spray of wildflowers leaning on a fence catches my attention. Their buds are not yet bloomed, clenched tightly shut with only a hint of pink at each tip. But that’s not what has drawn me in for a closer look. Instead, it’s the little caterpillar creeping up this flower’s slender stalk. This tiny creature is festooned with deep orange, inky black and decadent sprays of dainty hairs from tip to end. I smile. I love the tiny details in this world. The rich costumes of insects, the painstakingly ornate decorations on the smallest flower, the artistry on a bird’s plumage. They all point to the care and magnificence of God. And more than that, they remind me that if He takes enough time and attention to create beauty and perfectly provide for seemingly insignifi...