In the rustling grass I hear Him pass…

Drip, drip, drip goes the rain as it runs down the gutters and into the accumulating puddle of water below. Plink, plink, plink goes the drips of water as they fall from the tree onto our ’87 surburban, “Blue Belle”, parked just underneath. I watch as the water dances across the road while the rain picks up a bit, and can’t help but stand in amazement as I consider the vastness and greatness of our Lord. He knows each and every drop of rain before they even fall from the sky. Indeed, they were pre-ordained by him before time even began.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh…. I hear the washer running, completing a final spin cycle before we can unload it to place the contents in the dryer, already humming busily with another load.

Walking into the kitchen now, I can hear a little one, barely two, singing bits and pieces of “Chattanooga Choo-Choo” while picking toys up off the floor. There’s giggling coming from the next room as a few of my other siblings trade jokes before going to start the morning chores and school sure to come later. I smell the aroma of the coffee brewing….the strong, lovely smell of roasted coffee beans permeating the air as the coffee slowly but surely fills the coffeepot. Any minute it will be finished, and I will pour it into my tall cup to be my special morning companion as I work on a to-do list of my own, savoring each and every drop of goodness. Scritch, scratch, scritch, scratch… I observe a few blessings and write them in my thankful journal to ponder on throughout the day. I blow on the page to dry the ink and and to keep it from smearing when the cover is shut.

I hear a little girl calling, “Court!” “Court!”, and walking towards the sound, I am shown a lovely picture freshly drawn and awaiting a place on the refrigerator for other family members to admire. The collection there changes from week-to-week, but it is always a blessing to see what their beautifully creative minds have imagined and placed on paper. These days of stick figure and scribbled drawings won’t last forever, for one day, even the youngest will grow and be a big man, no longer interested in the crayon drawings that once held his attention.

It’s afternoon. The golden-yellow of sunlight is dappled along the ground as I make my way down to “my spot”, walking slowly through our forest area as I take in the scenery of the back yard wildlife. The trees, tall and stately as ever, bend and sway in the breeze- almost as if they are waving a “Hello” as I walk by. All around, the dragonflies, butterflies and bees whiz through the air, each busily going about their own little tasks. I make my way to my destination and stop for a moment; I can’t help but take a deep breath of the country air and allow the peace and tranquility to flow over me. What a wondrous gift God has given us with nature. He has given us such a gift to enjoy! I realize while I am standing there in the forest, I am standing in the very presence of God. Without warning, a song starts flowing out of my heart and suddenly I am singing out loud to my Lord:

This is my Father’s world, and to my listening ears all nature sings, and round me rings the music of the spheres. This is my Father’s world: I rest me in the thought of rocks and trees, of skies and seas; his hand the wonders wrought.

This is my Father’s world, the birds their carols raise, the morning light, the lily white, declare their maker’s praise. This is my Father’s world: he shines in all that’s fair; in the rustling grass I hear him pass; he speaks to me everywhere.

This is my Father’s world. O let me ne’er forget that though the wrong seems oft so strong, God is the ruler yet. This is my Father’s world: why should my heart be sad? The Lord is King; let the heavens ring! God reigns; let the earth be glad!

The joy… the joy bubbling within caused me to look up and behold once more the glory of the skies. The piercing blue with the cotton candy clouds rolling by one-by-one reminded me once again that my God is for me. My God is for me! No matter how hard the little day-to-day struggles seem to be as they pile up and seek to reside within my heart, the more I run to the Lord, the more He comforts me. The more I seek to see the blessings within my life, the more blessings He reveals to me. Each day brings more peace and healing as He is restoring my heart. I am so undeserving of the grace He gives. The wondrous grace. The healing grace. The grace to keep going when it seems there is no strength left to go on. I stand in amazement that He would choose me to be His own. <3

Wonderfully thankful,

~Miss Court

4 thoughts on “In the rustling grass I hear Him pass…

  1. So nice. You know, it reminded me of the opening scene from the short Pride and Prejudice where the camera is going through the house and all the “small” things going on. But to us they’re not small, praise the Lord! All ordained, amen!
    Kylie has taught Schyler to play My Father’s World and I love it too!
    Thanks for sharing that.

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