The fragrance of suffering

I crushed the lemon verbena underfoot in my garden this morning while cutting pink roses for the table. (Well, it's not lemon verbena after all, but I can't remember the name of it. It has been in the garden for years as it re-seeds itself and spreads. A tiny, spikey, fern-like leaved plant with small yellow flowers, it does best in the spring and fall.) But stepping on the carpets of this plant, growing wild all over the floor of my rose bed, is better than stepping in the weeded dirt. If I step on the lemony plant it keeps my shoes clean. Now as I sit and work at the computer I can smell the sweet, lemony fragrance that is staying on my shoes. It all gets me to thinking about the picture it is of God's work with us. Many times, the sweetness that He is growing in us does not manifest itself in grace and beauty to others, even to ourselves, until He must crush us with some affliction. How I wish I could take the analogy further and think that His shoes bear the fragrance of His suffering saints. Perhaps it does.