Here in a few days, I'll tell you more about the writing exercises I've been doing throughout the month of June. They're based on writing prompts created by others, and I've had quite the interesting (in a good way!) month with them.
I do two prompts every day, and one day this week, the first prompt was to describe a scene outside my window. I wrote about our struggling yard, and then the second prompt was to write a prayer for God to take a worry from me. Ha! I kept writing about the yard.
I wanted to share with you part of what I wrote in that second prompt. It was based on Matthew 6:30-33, which says "But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will He not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? Therefore, do not be anxious saying, 'What shall we eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' or 'What shall we wear?' For the Gentiles seek after all these things and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you."
Ironic to visit these verses after that last writing prompt, in which I described a scene outside my window. Because, You know, what's outside my window is a property filled with worry. The grass of the field, to be exact.
We waited so patiently for them to come seed our yard. We waited through piles of mud that were entirely unsightly. We waited through not being able to go outside to enjoy spring evenings. And then the literal minute they planted our yard, a heat wave and drought descended, and we have struggled to grow what they planted.
It feels like failure. The yard was part of what was promised when we bought the house. We've never before purchased a home with a yard yet to be designed. And we stare out there and see only brown with little specks of green here and there. And really, they are only "here and there" if you stare long and hard. I told Ryan it felt like one of those optical illusion paintings, where you have to stare intensely to make out what's hiding in the cracks and crevices.
Our cracks and crevices are wide. Deep rivets in the dirt that threaten to swallow the few blades of grass that look healthy.
It's a silly thing to worry about. So many people in so many places are praying for rain for survival. They have nothing to live on. Nothing to drink or bathe in or use for cooking. And we're just here praying for grass.
But it's an investment for us - of time, financial resources, and yes, even prayer.
And it's still empty and void and dead-looking.
Help me to remember, God, that You are the One who clothes the fields. This is our field. It needs clothed, and we are doing everything we can to make sure it happens. We can't do any more than we are right now. Allow us to see the grass clothe the dirt that taunts us.
We watched yesterday as the radar showed green flowing over our town right in that exact minute. It never rained a drop in real life.
We've had to make peace with knowing that it may take a year or two to complete just a simple yard of grass. But the One who clothes the fields knows our needs and hears our prayers. He asks us to trust. This girl is sure trying!
2 comments:
Good morning! God makes all things beautiful in His time!
I had to laugh When you mentioned the writing prompt that was to describe a scene outside your window. There’s an episode in MASH where Radar enrolls in a writing class by mail. His first writing assignment is to describe a scene outside his window, and all he sees is the dreary camp that is in the midst of war. So he skips onto the next assignment!
So beautiful! Hoping your grass grows in strong.
Post a Comment