Small things

Good-bye June. Our family calendar for the month of June consisted of a graduation, a surgery, death of a son, a funeral, a wedding, another surgery, a birthday, an anniversary, another surgery, and finally the death of a 12 year old family pet.

Looking back over the last few days, it’s hard not to see God’s hand. Sometimes I don’t always recognize it at first; it takes looking back.

I woke up yesterday with a severe headache. I got up, put on the coffee, and went back to bed—big mistake.

The smell of coffee woke me again, this time as I opened my eyes I realized it wasn’t just my head that hurt, but my entire body. It seemed every muscle in my body hurt.

I pulled myself up thinking I would go to the porch and write. When I got there, I knew I should take my tired bones out to the garden.

While on my knees I remembered that God had given me a prescription for my achy body years ago—my garden; the gentle movement of bending and weeding is the best medicine for my body and soul.

The peaceful cool breeze of the early morning is so soothing. At times I want nothing more than to listen to the birds, and let my mind wander among the flowers and bees.

Other times, I long for company in the garden; someone to share the beauty with--yesterday was one such day.

Guess what I found walking down the garden path? A dear friend and sister in Christ, Bonnie.

We sat most of the morning together sharing our hearts, and God’s goodness in the midst of pain.

It was in sharing with her the comings and goings of the last few days that I could see God’s hand.

It’s not hard to see his hands and feet when I look at the body of Christ. “The body of Christ” sounds like just Christian jargon when you write it down. The words have been used to describe a lifeless entity so long, the term seems trite.

But I have seen His hands in the believers I call my brothers and sisters. Like when they sat with us through the night, just to let us cry. Like when they mowed our lawn, cleaned our closet, and put up a bed for Tom to come home to. I came home from the hospital with Tom and found my favorite place to sit and write, the back porch, now had a new ceiling fan, and a new screen door to keep the raccoons out.

God asks us to be faithful in the small things. I’m beginning to understand why. It’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back. And the little things that mean the most. An early morning visit, a fan, a door, and a clean closet are small things that bring an immense amount of peace and joy.