Artifact: a usually simple object (such as a tool or ornament) showing human workmanship or modification as distinguished from a natural object. *especially*: an object remaining from a particular period.
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We shouldn’t take too much credit for Mary’s Magnolia. I recognize God first in its visual beauty and calming aroma.
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This tree has become more than a miracle of God because of humans. Someone brought it to this alien climate and decided to decorate their home decades ago. Half a decade ago, Mary spotted it and something moved in her soul. The tree chose us as much as we chose it.
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Our sons went to work climbing and testing their bravery, going higher with each effort. Jungle gym, tree house, crow’s nest, lookout tower, public announcement platform, or sniper’s perch, their imagination has brought it to life through play.
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Whenever it bloomed, Mary would bring one in the house to enjoy the fragrance. Elaborate and precarious rigs allowed blooms to travel with us on camping trips. It became a source of solace inside our home and when we were away.
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The tree still provides all of these comforts of home. The boys still test themselves and each other among the branches and the blooms still bless our living spaces, wherever they may be.
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It’s more. It’s a memorial to Mary. The May and June blooms always appear first outside our bathroom window, my first view of the day. They remind me that something can be beautiful outside its natural habitat, somewhere it doesn’t belong. A Christian, unschooler, widower, not living in fear of the invisible dangers I watched kill my wife? Yeah, I’m not where I belong. That’s fine, I’ll keep on blooming and growing.
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God bless and thank you for reading,
Jason