Hanging with God in my own backyard.Posted: April 27, 2012
When I’m in my back yard, my senses are alert. Besides the birds chirping and the leaves rustling, I notice that life is happening just beyond my fence.
I can hear the traffic moving a couple of miles away; that soft, muffled hum of rubber on asphalt. In the distance an ambulance siren wails, reminding me that life is short and that I should make the most of it.
The neighborhood dogs bark at each other from inside their own fences, as if they have some sort of secret language. My dog often joins in. I think they may be planning a rebellion. ”Forget the humans.” they say. ”We’ll run free and live off the land. Meet at the entrance at 0600. Bring treats.”
There are three storm sirens near my house. On stormy evenings they sing in an erie three part harmony. It’s a subtle reminder that even in the safety of my backyard, God is still in control and if He wants to drop a twister right on my fire pit, He’ll do so.
On Saturday afternoons, during the summer, I hear the familiar chorus of lawn equipment. Lawnmowers and leaf blowers growl. Weed eaters whine. The smell of freshly cut grass hangs in the air.
After all the yard work is done, my neighbors enter into barbecue mode. The aroma of meat on a grill makes my stomach gurgle. It holds my mind hostage. All I can think about is a juicy steak and an ear of corn, the menu of summer.
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More often than not, my backyard is a place to commune with my maker, surrounded by His creation. If I take the time to listen, I can hear Him clearly. He is reminding me of things.
He made the birds that jump around in the tree tops. But He cares for me more than them.
The rebellious dogs remind me that I am incapable on my own. I won’t make it without Him.
The wail of the ambulance reminds me of how fragile we are and how we should take advantage of the time He gives us.
The storm sirens tell me that He is all powerful.
The smell of the food in the air tells me that He is a provider.
God is always near by. Probably closer than you think. He’s sitting right next to you in a lawn chair, admiring your garden and pointing out that patch of dead grass.
He is not some distant being that hovers around in the universe. He’s right there with you.
Right in your own backyard.