Weeds into poinsettias

What a confluence of feasting today! Gaudete Sunday... Madeleine Sophie's 242nd birthday... Our Lady of Guadalupe...  For my friends who are Sisters of Mercy, today is their Foundation Day, while for another friend it's the anniversary of her entrance into her community. And for me, two days before my silver jubilee of vows, there is already a sense of quiet rejoicing, especially with today's first reading from Zephaniah. What heart wouldn't thrill and dance its own little jig at the thought of God in our midst, exulting and dancing with joy over us, and renewing us with his love?

But today I am also dwelling joyously on poinsettias. These beautiful, vibrant plants are native to Mexico, where I spent five months back in 2002, before preparing for my perpetual vows. I had made my first vows in an Advent illuminated Digby Stuart Chapel, surrounded by early winter darkness; I renewed them in our small community house in a shanty town on the edge of Xalapa, Veracruz, surrounded by lush, balmy clarity. And poinsettias: I can remember a proliferation of poinsettias; huge, luxuriant, blazing red against our dull grey floor.

Since then I have always had a fondness for these vivid shrubs, and the memories they evoke. The other day I wanted to find out what they symbolise in the language of flowers. I didn't get very far with that, but I did come across a charming little legend, about a Mexican peasant girl, too poor to afford a gift for the Christ-Child on Christmas Eve, who gathered some weeds, tied them into a bouquet and brought them to the church... Whereupon they were transformed, and blossomed into these most beautiful, flaming red plants. 

And this legend somehow sums up the profound gratitude I feel right now, heading into my silver jubilee. For twenty-five years God has taken my poor offering: the stubborn weeds pushing through slivers in bricks and concrete; the wayside weeds too often ignored and passed by; the fact that my offering is only weeds, and not expensive roses, exotic orchids or luxuriant foliage. And God has suffused my weeds with vibrancy and colour, has transformed and continues, daily - through copious grace and with unparalleled fidelity - to transform them into something far more wonderful than I could ever give. And that, surely, is as great a miracle as anything which might have happened in a 16th century village in Mexico!