Today I saw God

     As I watch my hummer family flit from flower to flower gathering nectar and nourishment, I see God.  They are created in a delicate way and engineered so strong and mighty.  God gave them endurance as their key character trait.  I need to learn from them and exemplify this endurance every day in my life.

     I look out my window at my newly planted Monet garden and see God.  One rose is delicate lavender and another rose bush is butter yellow.  The daisies are lemon colored with large blossoms.  Happy violas of lavender and yellow border the half-moon garden placed in front of two giant hydrangea bushes, which are ready to burst forth their triangular shaped pearl blossoms.  Swaying in the breeze are mauve pincushion flowers sharing lacy blossoms in their new abode. The pastel harmony of God’s wonderful colors and hues help me understand His peaceful purpose in my life.

     The birds sitting on a cedar tree limb sing their morning praises.  I hear You, Lord, in their chirps and tweeted phrases.  I am reminded how you care for each one of them and me each day.

     Sweet fragrances of lemon verbena and lantana waft past me and I smell God. Those same sweet fragrances that I smell when I praise Him and feel the lingering of His presence are in my newly planted garden.

    In all that surrounded me, I saw God.  Once again his creation has touched me.

   

New Eyes To See

 

Spring Beauty Gives Me Eyes To See

In the Midwest, we have waited a long time for spring.  Cold winds and low temperatures lasted until the middle of May.  Gray skies seemed endless.  Then, a magical wand passed over the midlands and urged closed buds to open wide and declare their beauty.  White iris with dark purple lace bloomed beside paper white peonies.  The warm earth exploded and presented the beauty that had been buried beneath the earth. 

The new buds and sudden blooming perennials increased my own energy.  I made plans for a garden filled with lavender and yellow roses.  I cherish and am grateful for my shade gardens now with gentle ferns uncurling their painted leaves.  Hostas erupt everywhere and bring fresh surprises. Winters snow coverings had hidden them, and I had forgotten where they were planted. Elegant viridian green color leaves mound into a large cluster almost over night. Various green hues became the outside décor. Little red hearts drip from shiny green branches as my bleeding heart plant displays the importance of timing and seasons.   The morning sun turns the mossy ground covering into a velvet lining in the fairy garden.  Spring’s motion prods me to see nature decorated with her best attire.

Birds sing in sweet twirls and chirps and throw love songs into the sky.  Bright red cardinals steal my focus and remind me of God’s best. Slowly the panorama of the earth has changed as the sun rises sooner and lasts longer. Spring has touched every living thing including me.

Bittersweet choices

Round colorful mounds placed upon green straws.

G

Spring is Sweet but Bittersweet

As blue bells ring out their beauty and lilacs spray their sweetness, I marvel at the multi-colored tulip beds at Foster Park.  Redbuds light the paths to gardens filled with spectacular colors of red, yellow, purple, and pink.  Then, I sneeze and sneeze.  My eyes itch and I hear that familiar spring wheeze within.  How can I be allergic to such beauty?

God made these beautiful blossoms and me.  It is ironic these eye candies carry pollen to refurbish themselves, yet make me sneeze.  Yes, I understand that my autoimmune system needs its youthful vigor.  I know staying inside helps combat the pollen intake.  But really, who (old or young) can stay inside on these beautiful, treasured days?

I consider the seagulls that have been designed with boomerang wings.  It is not easy to begin their flight compared to other slight of wing birds. However, they can climb the wind to float on the top rung of the flight latter.   They need only to flap when they start to drop.  Their design is perfect for their full bodies.  So, what seems difficult becomes and asset because they can fly high above in the heavens and see what fish or sand scraps they choose.  They descend by just gliding in the wind to dine at sea or sand.

I consider the great horned owl.  His favorite meal is a skunk.  I suppose his appetite to exist is stronger than the smell he must withstand.  Again, a struggle and strange combination exists in our natural world.

I consider the tulips.  Their beauty is breathtaking when their blooms pop open like a set alarm clock.  They are framed by dazzling red bud and lilac trees, which hear the same alarm.  Their beauty fleeting before my eyes because that same alarm that signaled the bud, now signals their time on earth is over.  “ Too soon, too fast,” I declare over the beds of glory.  In retrospect, I should rejoice over their reign. It is my artist heart that would like them to stay and bloom all summer.  However, then there would be no such season as spring.

So whether it is allergies, boomerang wings, stinky prey, or a brief life span, I must let the trial come to gather the blessing and manna of this day.

Sufficient and glorious grace.

Grace, just what my dull heart needed.

As I watch the twinkling Christmas lights across the neighborhood, it reminds me of the gift of grace.  Children delight in the new fallen snow and make pretend angels on the white blanket in their yard.  Neighbors reach out with cards, cookies, and calls of cheer.  They have forgotten their summer plight with weeds or noisy neighbor children. 

The world looks different during the holiday season.  People are smiling more, singing the carols that have lived in their hearts since childhood.  Sparkling eyes from the granddaughters remind me this season is truly magic and majestic.

Adult children return home to sniff the fragrance of the fresh evergreens and favorite recipes baking in the oven.  Stacks of frosted cookies remind them of their childhood.  Silver and red packages hold a mystery of what is to come on Christmas day.  Everyday has some precious memory of the past or that is being realized this day.

I call all this God’s grace.  I remember how unexpected His grace was on a sad and lonely day.  I understood His grace at the loss of my parents.  I embraced His grace when I first held my newborn sons.  I hunger for His grace more than for the roasting turkey, baked cookies, or seasonal cranberry recipes.  I see His grace as a white blanket that keeps me warm regardless of life’s turns and trials.  Because of God’s grace, I see with new eyes this season the birth of Christ. I know that it is grace that lifted my dull heart into one of expectancy of the second coming.  For grace, I am thankful.