I woke up this morning with extremely baggy, blood-shot eyes. It was 4:45 a.m., and I could no longer sleep comfortably. Allergies. Never fun, but certainly a reminder that I am mortal, susceptible to the common ailments of man.

I shuffled into the kitchen, flipped on the dim light and there it was.

A wilted flower on the windowsill.

Without coffee, mind you, I began to remember where it came from. Last evening, I had been working in the garden, raking, hoeing, the usual agrarian activities, working a garden that may or may not meet our needs in the coming winter. I say that because for one, I’m not God, and two, I’m not God.

But last evening, while I was on my knees, hot, sweaty and just plain filthy, working in the garden, planting my pampered, much cared for seedlings I’d worked so hard to nurture from seed, a little girl came up behind me, apparently the niece of a neighbor, and practically demanded my attention. She asked me a few questions about what I was planting. And why?

Good questions. I was planting miniature red bell peppers.

I really had no firm answer. I told her they had lots of vitamin C and could be used in salads, and were very small and so cute and pretty to grow, or so the seed packaging said.

I told her I’d never planted them before, but I was hopeful.

“If you never planted ‘em before, why are you now?”

Wow.

I had no answer. I told her I didn’t really know for sure, but that I was certain they’d be good to eat, stuffed with cabbage, etc., or whatever my creative wife would come up with.

I finally looked at her and said, “ Darlin’ I really don’t know why I’m planting these, but I guess I just want to.”

She smiled , said ‘Ok’, and walked away.

Moments later, she walked up behind me, tugged my untucked shirt, smiled, and handed me a broken flower.

It was beautiful. Broken, but with a prominent bloom on a half stem.

I was tired. Not just physically, but spiritually.

I almost choked. I don’t know if it was because of my ‘current situation’ or the truth of the moment God was showing me. I don’t know.  I gave no great spiritual lesson to her, I taught nothing, but I received much. When I woke up this morning, I couldn’t put my finger on it.

But there it was. In a half-stemmed, wilted flower there was a simple act of kindness. And in the midst of my allergic suffering, that little girl made me smile, and helped me realize that sometimes even in the midst of physical discomfort, the smallest act of kindness can mean so, so much.