"Has anyone by fussing in front of the mirror ever gotten taller by so much as an inch? All this time and money wasted on fashion—do you think it makes that much difference? Instead of looking at the fashions, walk out into the fields and look at the wildflowers. They never primp or shop, but have you ever seen color and design quite like it?"
--Matthew 6:27-29 (The Message)
As soon as I left the house this morning, I knew.
One look at the big, grey, drippy clouds and I knew the chances of my getting in a walk and coming home dry were slim, indeed.
It didn't really matter, I needed the walk. And I am not so sweet that I melt in the rain. Just ask my kids.
I was about a mile from home when the drips became drops, when the first splats got my glasses. On the one hand, once you're wet, you can't get dry again, so you might as well keep walking. On the other hand-- it was only about 67 degrees. It was chilly.
There weren't very many of us walking today. A woman headed to work with bagels and an annoyed look on her face. A man waiting for the bus, hands shoved deep in his pockets and hood pulled up over his head. A young lady, walkin' tall and lookin' good, earbuds in her ears and perky flowered umbrella over her head. (I never cared for umbrellas. They never kept my legs dry.)
And me, hair quickly becoming plastered to my head, glasses dripping, t-shirt changing color with the damp.
Of course, as soon as I got home, the rain stopped.
But it gave me a good chance to slow down and watch the natural world welcome the scant raindrops.
My grass practically seemed to inch taller, right before my eyes. The pampas grass, relaxing across the driveway and gratefully claiming a few drops for itself. Butterfly bush, almost done for the season, found an extra bit of oomph to hang on to its blooms.
And those goldfinches! I have had cone flowers for decades, and never had more than a single goldfinch at a time. Now, suddenly, this year they are coming in groups. (Do you know what you call a group of goldfinches? Not a flock-- they have a much more elegant name. A group of goldfinches is called . . . a charm. Perfect. Charming, even.)
Those goldfinches, that charm of brilliant yellow and black, chatter and cheep as they help themselves to seeds from the flower heads. I was going to pull weeds from around the cone flowers. Darn, I couldn't. (Can you sense my sarcastic disappointment?)
So much beauty, waiting to be seen and celebrated.
Every living creature receives everything it needs. But only humans worry about having enough. Only humans spend untold amounts of money on improving their appearance. We hoard food and drink, fearful there will be none tomorrow.
But if God in his goodness and generosity provides even the sparrows, that were bought and sold-two-for-a-penny in Jesus' day, with all they need to sustain life-- why would God not provide for us, his most precious creation?
Take a moment. Sit in silence and stillness. Listen to the world around you and be glad. Be grateful.
And remember-- God likes to use his creatures to provide for one another.
Be generous. (Be honest-- do you really need all that?)
(This just seems to belong with this post:
Gracious, generous Lord, you overwhelm us! Today, let me be thankful for the many gifts you have offered, and let me be generous with those who seem to have less. May we all come to see your world through new eyes, eyes that are truly grateful. Amen.
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