Gratefulness Part 4
September 19, 2025
Gratefulness Part 4
The gardenia bushes beside our back porch didn’t bloom in June, as always. I believe we trimmed them too much and too late. One of the large gardenia bushes comes from my home place in Mobile, where I grew up. I recall smelling the gardenia blossoms from that very bush as a little boy. Gardenias have a one-of-a-kind fragrance. It’s sweet, deep, mildly exotic yet earthy, creamy, and with a subtle layer of spice as you continue taking it in. In its own way, it is intoxicating. The scent becomes stronger in the evening.
I always look forward to June when a pristine white gardenia first appears on that bush. Leaning in and drawing a deep breath transports me to when that fragrance filled my childhood summers. That aroma is forever paired with the soul environment I grew up in: bare feet in the grass, sunlit days, peacefulness, settled-ness, contentment, family, fascination, excitement, exploration, a sense of place, well-being, and most of all— home. In that breath, in that one millisecond, I am my soul child again.
The first whiff of that familiar fragrance bypasses all words and sends me to my childhood backyard in early summer. I become that little being again, if only for a split second. This scent is a gift because with it, I directly experience the essence of my earliest being.
But this year the gift did not come as usual. Something was missing. The big, beautiful magnolia blossoms were there with their wonderful lemony fragrance, and the roses opened with their perfumes. But I missed the familiar fragrance of my essence. Its absence made me grateful for the years I enjoyed it, but sadly, took for granted. This year, I sought other gardenia bushes and breathed in their aromas, but none were quite like the one from “home.”
Then, this August, the gardenia bush bloomed! The pruning had not destroyed the flowering; it only delayed it. Even now, as cool air hints at the loss of summer, it continues to flower. More than anything, it transports me back to my essence through my body’s intelligence, which does what my mind and heart cannot immediately recapture. The fragrance of the gardenia awakens the wisdom of my essence, a gift of gratefulness I will never again take for granted.
Spiritual practice: Is there a fragrance, aroma, or scent that takes you back to your early childhood? Would it be possible for you to re-experience it and re-embody your childhood self? What soul qualities of your essence might the fragrance put you in touch with?
Self-Inquiry: What are some reasons your body holds memories that words cannot describe?
Prayer: Dear God, I experience the amazing gardenia bush’s miracle every year. I look at it now as I reflect; it is alive with blooms swaying in the gentle breeze. Its past includes my father and mother, who picked it out, planted it, watered it, pruned it, and transplanted it. What you began, they carried on, and my essence was woven into its fragrance. I am so thankful. Amen
