But God is here, too

The shades of purple in the neighborhood flowerbeds catch my eye one week, the bright pink flowers of the crepe myrtle and desert willow trees which line the walking paths and streets do the same the next, the yellows of sunflowers peeking through the concrete construction make me catch my breath each year. I write of green algae in man-made ponds and the varying life cycles of potted plants. I am rooted in the midst of sprawling north Dallas suburbia.

I recently finished reading Placemaker, by Christie Purifoy, and read spell-bound of her sprawling Pennsylvania home, Maplehurst. I sat imagining her great, growing trees and the space to plant a flower garden big enough to need pathways. But I have been gifted with a black thumb and the ability to lead even the easiest to care for succulents into the afterlife.

I read writers’ words of God’s stillness reaching into the hearts of those on farms with sprawling space, chickens at foot, goats in the yard, cows to milk and fences to mend. But we, have a sodded lot in the middle of a neighborhood, with a Boxer-girl in high need of allergy medicine since she seems to be allergic to grass.

I’m captivated by God’s grace given to those that homeschool several children of various ages and needs. But my only son walks with backpack on and book in hand into an educational institution each morning.

I scroll stories of women overcoming insecurity and living confidently in their calling and fully in their space. Yet, I second guess and fight timidity.

Do you hear that rustle of my heart in each “yet” and “but I”? It’s the undercurrent of comparison. It’s there. It’s there when I slip on flats instead of heels for an event. It’s there when I drive toward the sunset for a better glimpse only to have my view blocked by neighborhood rooflines. It’s there when I pull into our garage and simultaneously wish for greater minimalism and a second home office so we can all have our own workspaces. It’s there when I regret my lack of focus on caloric intake as I question if my body is summer ready.

But God. God is there in the cultivated purples and pinks of my neighborhood flowerbeds. He is there in the concrete cracks that allow sunflowers to tilt themselves toward the sun. He is here with my grocery store eggs and my high maintenance dog. He is inside the walls of my son’s school. And He created me to be comfortable in flat shoes, cotton dresses and a covered up tankini.

He is in every ordinary – and extraordinary – moment. David reminds us in Psalm 139, there is nowhere we can go that He is not. There is no feeling we can have that is too great for His mercy.

“O Lord, you have searched me and you know me.You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar.
You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways.
Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O Lord,
You hem me in behind and before; you have laid your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain.
Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence?If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
If I rise up on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,
even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.”…
“For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb.  I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.”…
“Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts.See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.”

-Amen

Hugs and Blessings – Bethany