During a typical weekend, I have a routine of housework and yard work. We live on a couple of acres which I mow each week. It is one of my longest tasks, but most fulfilling when I see it completed. I realized I could spread the tasks over a couple days, thanks to my new situation.
I woke up with the birds yesterday morning. Their song was full of praise for a new day and all that it would hold. I lay in bed half-listening, trying to decide if I was going to get up and start to cut the grass or if I was going to wait until my hubby and my neighbor were at least moving before starting the mower. I waited.
As soon as hubby was out of the driveway, I was getting my shoes on to go cut. The weather was overcast, grey skies looking like rain was eminent. After checking the oil and topping it off, I put gas in the tank and began to mow. I collected a couple of bags of grass for the chickens. I only managed to cut a small section before it began to sprinkle. I continued to cut, hoping I would get some finished before the rain made me stop. I managed to get the east side cut and start a few rows on the west side before thunder rumbled across the sky.
“Alright,” I muttered to no one, only then resigning to stop mowing until the rain let up. I put away the mower and went inside. I was restless, frustrated, and even annoyed with God that He would interrupt my chore with more rain, which my home state does not need at this point. I paced the living room, irritated that I had to wait for the rain to stop.
I stepped out onto the west porch to study the yard. The birds were still singing during the rain, under the protection of the branches, they were safe and free to sing, so sing they did. Their songs seemed cacophonous at first, then like an orchestra, their songs began to come together. I stopped pacing, I began to listen. I heard the robin, the wren, the sparrow, the cardinal, and the blue jay as well. Each one singing their tune, not listening to their neighbors, only bringing their song with them.
Oh, I thought. That is what You wanted me to do today. Be still.
I stood still, closed my eyes, and listened.
As their songs continued, I surrendered to the moment. The breeze swept me and the rain washed me of residual frustrations. My heart was emptied of everything, but contentment.
Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior. The Sovereign Lord is my strength; he makes my feet like the feet of a deer, he enables me to tread on the heights. For the director of music. On my stringed instruments, (Habakkuk 3:17-19 NIV).
In this contentment I will rest, as Paul wrote in Romans 8:31-39, Who then is the one who condemns? No one. Christ Jesus who died—more than that, who was raised to life—is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us, (Romans 8:34-35, 37 NIV).
Yes, yes, and amen.