Saturday, April 26, 2014

Little Laughing Flowers

Only two weeks remain for my husband to finish his college studies before graduation. He's been a soldier-student for all the time I've known him, and now a soldier-student-husband-father. The journey to finishing college has been long and arduous for this man of whom I am proud and for whom I pray.

Lately those prayers have been much of this one: "Lord, provide for him, provide a job, provide for us." Every time I walk outside and see the world with its trees and homes spread out beneath the sky, I remember our lives beneath God's face and I am stirred up to ask Him again for blessings. (How we need often to stand beneath the sky and remember our Creator!) But in the moment of prayer, my sense of need sometimes rises up against my sense of God and tries to rule my heart. What will we do without this thing for which I pray? How hard will it be to wait for this thing for which I pray? The worry rises  and the prayers rise back, perhaps more weakly. A fresh breezes come to my face and pass by, the grasses wave in it, humble golden dandelions blooming in squat glory near the pavement lift bold faces to the sun, new leaves bob proudly on dark twigs of trees above my head, and other trees revel in brief attire of glorious perfumey blossoms. 

All of it seems suddenly to be laughing at me. Do you not see, silly child of Eve, how well He has provided for us? Does not the spring always come for us to deck ourselves with joy and feed the air with beauty? And are not you the daughter of our Maker? Hohoho! Fret not! The breezes blow to me a dozen reassuring smiles from grass and flower, cloud and leaf. 

"How much more valuable are you than they?" So said Jesus. He wants me to look at all of it, the flowers, the sky and the birds, and to remember why they are there just so, and that I can trust their Maker to make something beautiful out of my life.

Near, by the footfall,
Springeth a joy,
Like a new-blown little flower
Growing for thee, to make thee glad.
Let thy countenance be no more sad,
But wake the voice of joy and health within thy dwelling,
And let thy tongue be ever telling,
Not of fear that lieth grey,
But of little laughing flowers beside the way.
For the Lord is always kind 
Be not blind, be not blind  
To the shining of His face,  
To the comforts of His grace.  
He hath never failed thee yet.  
Never will His love forget.  
O fret not thyself, nor let
Thy heart be troubled,
Neither let it be afraid.
- Amy Carmichael

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