The Milk Guy has morning glories. Well, they don't yet have their glory (i.e. flowers), even in the mornings, but the plants are growing in profusion, with the promise of more beauty even than heart-shaped leaves, to come.
There's a fence for the tendrils to wind up, and some of them are doing so, but others are growing back along the ground. The Milk Guy was contemplating training them up the fence, too, but they're too far entrenched along the stonework or whatever it is down there, so he said, "I guess there'll be some 'creeping glories,' too, then."
"That sounds funny," I chuckled. "'Creeping glory.'"
"It would make a great name for a band," he said. I'm sure it would. The band we saw recently was called "Raging Grace." I'm not positive it occurred to him right then how similar in genre the names are. Regardless, I just think it's an unmitigatedly great phrase, whether it's referring to a band or not.
It seems like it should be mitigated. Creep, creeping, creepy--none of these have very nice connotations. They make me think of certain customers we have . . . There's a sinister undertone to any word with "creep" at its root. But I think it's apt anyway. I think sometimes the onset of glory feels sinister, even if it's--well, glorious, in the end. Ultimately, we probably have to die first, which doesn't have really fantastic connotations either. And even the hints and whispers of glory we receive here are often hard-won and feel a little bit like dying.
Also, they're usually just hints and whispers. "Creeping glory" reminds me that sometimes the glory of God doesn't burst upon us like a thunderclap, but sneaks up and surprises us. It makes me think of the parables Jesus told about the coming of the Kingdom--it's like a mustard seed, which surprises us with the large shrub that's inside it; or like a tiny bit of yeast, which surprises us by rising a whole batch of bread dough; or like a treasure, hidden in the ground.