Why is it that during the most challenging moments of my life I put God on hold? I’m supposed to turn to Him, run to Him, jump into his arms and let Him guide me through it. I’m supposed to lean harder and let Him help me carry the burden.
But I always press pause. And I always end up digging myself a deeper hole.
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You’d think it would be simple. Just get out the mower, run it over the lawn, no more clover. Right?
Not exactly.
On Saturday, I finally decided to overcome my inertia and go at the lawn. At first glance, of course, it now looks great. All the overgrown clover is gone, and all that’s left is some nice, green (well, a little yellow in spots) grass. Problem solved!
On closer inspection, though, I can see that I’m in for a very long haul with this lawn.
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My front yard used to have some grass. When we first moved in, the builders had seeded with cheap grass just to keep the soil from washing away. The intention was that they would come back after the construction was done, rip out the temporary ground cover and start a new, healthy lawn.
They haven’t been back. And now, the lawn that used to have some grass is all clover. Huge swaths of it, overgrowing and choking everything else out.
They say that when you’re “in clover,” you’re living a casual, carefree life. No worries.
Ha.
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It’s interesting how I can be sitting in a room with almost a thousand people and feel completely alone. Well, not completely—God was there with me in church today, and I could feel His presence, but otherwise, I may as well have been sitting in an empty room for as much as I felt connected with anyone else there.
A disturbing pattern has consistently emerged over my life so far. So consistent—and so disturbing—that I’ve considered hanging a sign around my neck: Warning! Enter friendship with me at your own risk! The people who get closest to me, who mean the most to me, always leave.
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I love the beach (hence the sandy background on this blog page). Some of my closest encounters with God have taken place there. I love to walk in the sand, right at the edge of the water where it’s wet and soft and cool, where I can collect the most beautiful and interesting shells, and where the trickle of a wave will occasionally roll up and over my toes. It’s a perfect place to stroll.
And the worst possible place to build a house.
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