At the corner of my driveway are a couple of cacti.
And that's weird, because cacti a weird word, but it's also weird because this is LA. I expect to see cacti in Arizona, but not LA and not along my driveway.
But LA is kinda weird when it comes to flora and fauna. Birds of Paradise bushes grow like weeds out here, whereas a single Bird Of Paradise flower sells for something like $7 - $10 bucks back home in Alabama. The prettiest wildflowers will grow on medians down the Wilshire corridor. It doesn't make a lot of sense.
So yes, there are cacti on my driveway, waving hello at me every time I come home. And every once in a while, it feels like once a year, really, a flower will appear.
This lovely white flower, which looks kinda shy in this photo. It lasts maybe three days and quickly withers away.
It takes a year to grow. Three days to shine, then poof, it's gone.
There's an obvious metaphor in there, yet some vital piece feels off.
The cactus flower is about God's timing - it can take forever, but when it appears, it's beautiful and lovely (until it withers away, and are you really trying to say God's timing only lasts three days?)
The cactus flower is about God's blessings - they can take forever, but when they show up, you appreciate them all the more because it took so long to get there (and are you really trying to say God's blessings vanish after three days?)
The cactus flower is about stopping to appreciate God's miracles - this lovely flower coming off a prickly cactus that doesn't look like it's capable of such beauty, (except that beauty only lasts three days and my, don't you sound really judgmental.)
Regardless, maybe it’s just about stopping when you see beauty, where ever you see beauty, and thanking God for it. That’s what I’m going with.