But, I Know You’re There

With Spring upon us, finally, we see the first offerings of new green grass poking out of the winter sleep of our lawns and fields. The crocuses have come and gone, the fake dandelions in the ditches and the annual crop of new pot holes tell me that warmer, longer and better days are just ahead. Yes dear Spring, even through the last weeks of rainy cold days, you’re hard to see, but I know you’re there. Soon, one of my favorite chores, mowing the lawn will be available to me. The hum of a lawn tractor closes me in a private place, like an outdoor prayer room of sorts. For an hour or so I can have the greatest conversation with my late father, or even my always on time Father, Jesus. I can take whatever I am carrying and dump it like a wheel barrow full of gravel. When I’m done, both my spirit and my driveway are smooth and level.

          

Just like everyone, I have troubles, and worries. My joints, muscles, and mind are not as strong as they used to be. Even in these I am thankful for my age. I worry about my home’s finances and my wife’s health, just like everyone else. I’m human so I will tend to do that. Yet, I know God that you are in my corner, and in every corner of my household. I don’t see your body with my eyes, but I know you’re there. How do I know? I saw You this week in the blessings too numerous to mention, and some too private to speak of. You are not like the Pharisees who do good for us, then tell everyone about it on a street corner. You remain at my side, silent until I sing your praises. You raise me from my bed every day, weakened muscles and all, but You raise me. You raise everyone. Yes Lord, I don’t always see you, but I know you’re there.

          

These past few months have had their moments both solid, and soluble. I have been blessed far beyond any measure. As you read this, perhaps you can replay your own recorded memories. If you’re reading this today, then you’re alive and well. Take a few moments, close your eyes, sip your coffee or tea, and let the new green grass in your life poke through the dead fall of the last season. There’s promise in the longer, warmer days ahead. When you smell your own freshly cut lawn in your mind, you too will say, Lord, I may not have seen you today, but I know you’re there, thanks.

Mike Shindruk

www.mastershandministry.blogspot.com