Lamenting over my neglected yard and flowerbeds all throughout Lent has been a recurring pattern with me. As much as I’d like to be a serious gardener, I just don’t have that kind of time. But then, every year, much to my delight, the bearded iris pop into bloom in my backyard with seemingly no warning. It’s like one day, there are just green stalks, and the next, a profusion of purple robed majesty. They resurrect, they come back from the dead, and are born from above with no help at all from me or anyone else. Yes, I know I should dig up the bulbs and divide them for an even better display. It is heartening to know, however, that even if I don’t, God has this world in check and will give me purple surprises every Spring to remind me that I need not fret. I can just enjoy.