Page 29 of Wishes on Wildflowers
Nonna inhaled sharply. “But you have given your life to Jesus. I was there when you were baptized, when you announced to the world that you would follow Jesus, no turning back.”
Jasmine remembered that day, too. It had been shortly after Nathan moved away, and she was feeling rejected and pious both at the same time. How had that even been possible? With Nathan gone, she’d thrown herself at God’s mercy. Hadn’t He caught her? Hadn’t He held her up all these years?
“Pray for me, Nonna. Sometimes it feels like God is just a wisp. Like prayers are nothing more than blowing on dandelion fluff and making a wish.”
Her grandmother’s face pulled into a scowl.
Jasmine held up her hand. “Please, don’t think worse of me for being honest. I know it’s not true, but the feelings still come. Or else it feels like my prayers bounce around in a rocky cave. They never get higher than the ceiling.”
Nonna pulled Jasmine into an embrace that nearly suffocated her, pressed into the ample bosom. “Mi bella.But is not God with you? You say the prayer cannot grow wings beyond the ceiling and fly to the heavens, but the psalmist says we cannot escape from God’s presence. He is with us to the outermost part of the earth, below the waves even. Surely that means He fits inside that room where you pray, and your words do not need to fly beyond it.”
Jasmine straightened her arms, pushing Nonna slightly away. Not that she wanted rid of the safe feeling of her grandmother’s arms, but she needed to look at her. Read her eyes. Gain hope and understanding. “Those words are true, Nonna,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
“You chase the herbs and the wildflowers when you forage, do you not?”
Jasmine nodded.
“And how many days is the lily open? How many days is the asparagus the right size to harvest?”
“Just one or two days. Many wildflowers have only a very short bloom span.” She thought of Linnea’s fixation. “Just like the butterflies. Many live only a week or two with wings before laying their eggs and then dying.” What a waste of beauty in both cases. Wildflowers and butterflies definitely got the pointy end of the stick.
Nonna nodded sagely. “Yet even Solomon, in all his splendor, was not clothed as one of these.”
Jasmine blinked, recognizing the Scripture from Matthew. Or was it Luke? What was the biblical context? She’d look it up when she got back to Eden’s house. After she milked Pansy.
“Yet even though the Bible says we are like the grasses of the fields, here today and gone tomorrow, yet we are stillloved by God. We are still offered a permanent home in heaven where our leaves will not wilt, our petals will not scatter, nor will our stems become dry and brown and brittle, easily broken.”
Jasmine gazed into her grandmother’s dark eyes glittering with unshed tears. She reached and touched the leathery cheek. “You miss my nonni, don’t you?”
“With every breath, with every morning I wake up with my head on the pillow next to the one that no longer bears the indent of Salvador’s head, I miss him.”
Her grandmother had been a widow for most of Jasmine’s life. She barely remembered the laughing man who’d jiggled her on his knee.Mi tesoro,he’d called her. His treasure. She and her cousin Francesca had been the only girls back then amid half a dozen boys. He’d stroked her long hair and pressed his lips against her forehead. She had felt beautiful and treasured indeed in those moments.
Nonna patted her arm. “You think about what I say. Even though you are as fleeting as a wildflower, you matter to the One who made you. You matter to your family and your friends. You are a good woman, Jasmine. Do not settle. Keep knocking on God’s door, and He will reply. Promise me this.”
Jasmine brushed tears from her own eyes. “I promise.”
“Good. Now I want to know when you can help me plant my garden. The days are getting warm now, and I do not have the energy I used to when I was your age. Will you help an old woman out?”
“Nonna, why don’t you let the boys and me add your garden to Bridgeview Backyards? I’ve seen your pantry.” Jasmine chuckled at the memory. “I think you would need to live to be one hundred twenty before you could use up all thetomatoes you’ve canned, all the pasta sauce, all the soups, all the beans. You don’t need to plant a big garden again this year. You have plenty.”
Nonna crossed her arms and scowled. “You I trust to do my garden well. Your brother, I am not so sure.”
Jasmine couldn’t fault her grandmother’s opinion of Basil. It certainly wasn’t Alex she was talking about. “We’ll do it together. Peter, Basil, and me. You may have all the fresh eating you want, just as you always have. Step outside and pick whatever vegetables and herbs you want for dinner. Let us take care of the excess and sell it.”
“I am not so old as all that.” Nonna scowled. “It’s just in the early spring with all the damp weather my arthritis bothers me. I will be fine when the weather is warm. I can do the work then.”
Jasmine reached out and grabbed both her grandmother’s hands in her own. “Nonna, but it’s too much in harvest time, too. Remember how many times you needed Francesca and me to come help with the canning? And Daria, too.”
Nonna harrumphed. “I didn’t hear you girls complaining about taking home jars full of food.”
“You’re right. It was all very delicious. But I still have enough for another year or two myself.” She squeezed Nonna’s hands. “It’s okay to admit you can’t do everything.”
“Enough with your meddling. Didn’t you say you needed to milk that goat? Go then. And return Saturday to help me plant my garden.”
“I’m busy on Saturday. It’s my workday for the business, and we are planting the yard next door to Alex’s house. You know Mrs. Essery.”
Her grandmother glared at her. “Beulah is too young to be giving away all her yard. She is only seventy. She willregret it.”
