22 October 2010
Housework, kind-of done. Me, out of PJs. Kids, at school and kindy.
Time to sit with a coffee in the spring sunshine and think about where I see God's fingerprints in my world. Sometimes I need to stop and recall all his Goodness...
I see his Goodness in my home. It's a dream-home for me. Four years we have lived here and every time I return from being away my heart fills up with thanks for the joy that this is our home. I never dreamed we'd be able to afford to live in a house like this. In a neighbourhood I love. With a great school nearby.
It's a comfortable spacious colourful mish-mash of things I love and memories I cherish.
If these walls could speak... they would tell of Christmas mornings, birthday parties, family dinners and wrestling matches. They would whisper about tears and hugs, cross words and forgiveness. Babies born, battles fought and won, things lost and found. They would tell of shrieks and shouts, giggles and wails. These walls would tell that a family lives here, in all its sweat and glory.
I see his Goodness in my Garden. So blessed are we to have such a space for our children to run free, climb and play. Even the weeds speak to me about things I must tend to in my heart, thoughts and attitudes I must guard against and uproot before they take over and choke the good things.
In my Garden God's fingerprints are everywhere, literally. Flowers and trees, buds and lemons, fruit and flax. The birds and the bees. Even the bugs. Fingerprints. Everywhere.
I see God's fingerprints on me. I see what he is making. I am like a clay pot, cracked and broken in places, but he has not discarded me.
Like a Master craftsman who knows how to restore something precious which fell and smashed, he puts the pieces back together, bit by bit, filling in the cracks.
Where do you see God's fingerprints lately?