Friday Morning on the Back Patio
A small flock of wild geese roam freely through the 18th Fairway behind my house, with carts and golf clubs no longer a threat to their wanderings. The tall grasses need mowing, yet sway so beautifully in this Grand Prairie breeze... trees towering above me in full leaf let forth a symphony of sound, swelling in an ocean roar and then becoming still and silent, letting the distant hum of a neighbor's mower break through before the leaves begin their singing once again. The baby birds in our craft-store birdhouse screech loudly until Momma appears, darting back after her latest bug-hunting expedition. Let's hope it was successful, or there may never be peace in that corner of the yard again...
I am so overwhelmed by life. I used to be an "on top of things" kind of girl. I had my ducks in a row and my "stuff" straight. But, as I suspect happens to most of us, the older I get, the more bewildered I feel. Those things I thought I knew, the things I thought I was, the things making up all my plans and ordering my life so neatly - well, they can vanish pretty quickly, can't they? So many fantastic illusions, crumbling under the force of reality. And before I know it, every morning is a new existential crisis - but also, by the way, when am I going to tackle that load of laundry or prep that meal or buy those groceries or clean that toilet or sign them up for this or schedule us for that thing....
I am thankful for the mundane, urgent things, though. The work of our hands is redemptive. And I'm thankful for the Works of His hands, for they quickly put me in my place. Just when I had fully positioned myself in the center of His Universe, I look out at six wild geese in the field and think, "You know, I guess God is thinking about those guys, too." And the wind in those symphonic trees drowns out the philosophies in my head, drawing my eyes upward and further outward, rootedly reminding me of the weight of glory all around, dwarfing my own self, humbling me so that I may resume my rightful place in tHis world, like a wandering child being gently ushered back to a place where he may be safe, where he may thrive and grow in the way that he should.
I am so overwhelmed by life. I used to be an "on top of things" kind of girl. I had my ducks in a row and my "stuff" straight. But, as I suspect happens to most of us, the older I get, the more bewildered I feel. Those things I thought I knew, the things I thought I was, the things making up all my plans and ordering my life so neatly - well, they can vanish pretty quickly, can't they? So many fantastic illusions, crumbling under the force of reality. And before I know it, every morning is a new existential crisis - but also, by the way, when am I going to tackle that load of laundry or prep that meal or buy those groceries or clean that toilet or sign them up for this or schedule us for that thing....
I am thankful for the mundane, urgent things, though. The work of our hands is redemptive. And I'm thankful for the Works of His hands, for they quickly put me in my place. Just when I had fully positioned myself in the center of His Universe, I look out at six wild geese in the field and think, "You know, I guess God is thinking about those guys, too." And the wind in those symphonic trees drowns out the philosophies in my head, drawing my eyes upward and further outward, rootedly reminding me of the weight of glory all around, dwarfing my own self, humbling me so that I may resume my rightful place in tHis world, like a wandering child being gently ushered back to a place where he may be safe, where he may thrive and grow in the way that he should.
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