Thank You, Lord, for Mrs. Rose of Sharon, my petite bush buddy in our backyard. She and I have faded as our summer blooming seasons have turned to autumn. But OMG, thank You that both of us can stick out our tongues at approaching winter because You’ve promised us Resurrection!
O Lord, after a six-week drought, I’d almost forgotten what Your rain symphonies sounded like, with percussive rumbles of thunder and gentle droplet harmonies. My flowers thank You, and so do I, as I’m sick and tired of their complaints.
One thing both flowers and this gardener have learned, though, during every growing/blooming season: whatever the “omnipotent” Weather Channel decrees, You are the one in charge.
Image by Shafin Al Asad Protic from Pixabay.
Jesus, thank You for a relaxing overnight getaway, an early birthday celebration for my husband — a lovely dress-up dinner out and a hike the next day. OMG, just once, though, I wish I’d remember to take photos when we’re dressed up instead of sweaty ones out in the woods. But You know how it is when I’m presented with a plateful of shrimp …
Jesus, I know You want us to take care of everyday business. But OMG, did You, too, take a little time to pick flowers with the neighborhood kids?
O Lord, Hubby and I identified with biblical King David, who once said You “made my feet like the feet of a deer and set me secure on the heights” (Psalm 18:33). Thank You! Now, OMG, will You help our knees hold together so we can descend?
Jesus, I didn’t realize You said so much in the biblical book of Proverbs about words until our pastor preached about them. Maybe all of us card-carrying members of the Love-the-Sound-of-My-Own-Voice Club should pray this prayer daily: “OMG, please fill my mouth —and social media — with worthwhile stuff, and shut me up when I’ve said enough!”
Image by G Rhulk from Pixabay.
Image by Clkr-Free-Vector-Images by Pixaby; Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay
;
Jesus, You know that when I enter a produce section or farm market, I want to buy out the place! Sort of an Eve compulsion (though if my Eden ancestor had given in to strawberry pie temptation, I would really get that). Often, though, I can share my fruit overload with our church family — especially meaningful today as we celebrate a dear woman who loved You and others with her long life. OMG, thank You for this privilege. And that You can transform even my greed into generosity.
Jesus, thank You for a Ranger-roaring good time with my big brother, zooming around the Indiana hills like teenagers. For a brother-sister tour of his Eden-like garden. And OMG, thank You for his hospitable, patient wife who put up with a couple of adolescents in her home.
Lord, You have always loved the lilies of the field. I’m sure You, like I, look forward to them every summer — flowers that don’t complain because people call them weeds. They’re not fauna divas that have to be pampered, but bloom like they can’t wait to show off Your glory. OMG, when I grow demanding and fussy like my roses, wave a few of these in front of my nose, okay?
Jesus, when You camped out—as You probably did a lot—You probably grew tired of the work of setting up and breaking down. You didn’t always fix the weather, though You could have. Did You and the disciples also fight mosquitoes and have to do (ugh) 0tick checks? But OMG, did one cozy night around the campfire, one view of Your masterpieces of nature, refresh You too?
