As I sip my coffee and watch the sun rise above our quiet town, I think about the beauty that surrounds me. The rainbow of tulips blooming, my one-year-old’s wobbly steps, the dripping icing on the cinnamon rolls.
These beautiful things are gifts that often blur into the business, splashes of color that get muddled on the canvas of schedules and routines and expectations and frustrations.
Right now, Joseph is sleeping because of a Sickle-Cell induced migraine, and I sit here on the couch, worried, praying the medicine will make him feel better, and that he’ll awake feeling refreshed and happy.
In the moments when fear begins to take root in my heart, I have to remember that God is still the God of beauty, even in the brokenness. I have to remember that each morning is an opportunity for grace to grow, for love to take root in my heart. I have to remember that the brilliant creator of all things is with us in each moment. That he passionately pursues his creations, that no dirt can take away his desire to cultivate our souls and pour life into the crevices.
I have to remember that he is the foundation of all things, the water that sustains us, the all-giving source of life.
For as the earth bursts with spring wildflowers,
and as a garden cascades with blossoms,
So the Master, God, brings righteousness into full bloom
and puts praise on display before the nations.