I hear Meg outside whistling. She stops and listens to hear the baby birds. The ones who's nest rests on the downspout that I didn't have the heart to knock down. The mama had wove in ribbon from a yard decoration Meg made, and Meg was proud they liked it too.
I hear her whistling again as she waters the flowers which don't need watering. They're likely drowning, but she hasn't been happier in a long time and it's better for my soul than flowers.
Instead of thanking God she is mine, I thank God she is his. I thank him for putting her in my care and apologize for complaining and my disappointment in broken dreams and wayward plans.
Seeing Meg so happy and content made me wonder what's wrong with me. It had been a hard day for sure. Unlike Meg, I had no song.
The verse that came to mind was Matthew 6: 28-30 NIV: "See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith?"
I want to be like that. I want to leave things to God like the words of the GI specialist this afternoon telling me Houston's Neurosurgeon needs to be contacted. Meg's pressure is on it's second week of not fluctuating low, but always being high. There is no relief and it's affecting the rest of her body, especially her GI tract.
I called Houston Neurosurgery as I wondered what clothes were clean, what suitcases to take, and why I slacked because there's no way I could be ready in 5 minutes like I had been for months. With her surgeon in surgery we'll have an answer tomorrow unless I'd like to take her down now.
My chest tightens hearing the nurse's words. I want to scream because this is exactly why life can't be normal. Meanwhile Meg whistles to the baby birds in the nest with her ribbon, because life is good.
I think about those flowers of the field God dresses and cares for. I feel remorse for the countless times I've prayed for good to come. I felt God holding back and holding out on me. But what if God's been blessing, giving, and pouring out and I didn't have eyes to see? What if He's been giving me good, only I thought it would be different. I wanted it different.
Many times I've stood seeing what I wanted and failed to stand in gratitude. I've told God this isn't how I want things to go. How many times has He wondered why I can't say yes and accept his offering? I look back at the last couple years and see how God limited my options so all I had was His way. He shifted life so I'd depend on him and see what he does. The blessings have flowed in ways I never imagined because God parts seas, gushes water in the desert, and loves a sinner like me.
Like the flowers we can accept the rain as it falls and the sun when it scorches, and become as beautiful as God intends.