One of the very first flowers I planted when the pandemic hit is still hanging on. Barely. The plant itself is leaning over and surrounded by weeds. Most of its lovely neighbors are long gone.

Sometimes I make big parallels to life from what I see in my garden. Today I have no corresponding lesson, except that I duly noted it’s time to plant my “winter” flowers, and it’s definitely time for a new season.

I begin this season, this month of gratitude, with thanksgiving to God. Last Thursday afternoon coming home from work, I was in a head-on collision with a young driver who came straight on into my lane. I find words completely insufficient to express my gratitude for God’s protection and care. Full-body scans showed no fractures from an accident that we cannot fathom didn’t bring about such injuries.

I’m thankful.

I’m thankful for the incredible kindness of a young African American man who stopped and stood by my car window in support until help arrived, and without reservation, called Greg while I stayed on the line with 911. I was blessed to experience such significant goodness in a world of unrest.

I’m thankful for the strong front-end on my SUV that shielded a great deal of the impact from me. I’m thankful for paramedics, a 75-degree morning, flower seedlings on the patio table, and my family.

Last, I’m thankful for some quiet days at home this week to rest, begin to heal, and reflect on what God has in store for all of us in this brand new season (hopefully Zinnia planting included).