Observe how the lilies of the field grow; they do not toil nor do they spin. Matthew 6:28
I hadn’t had a very good workout at the YMCA that morning. Everyone looked younger than I am—and more athletic. I dreaded going home. I’d just drop into a chair, exhausted.
My body was weary, but so was my soul. God seemed so far away. The sun was Georgia hot, even at eleven in the morning, as I exited the building. Discouragement tagged along with me.
A woman passed me, walking briskly to the parking area. She stopped a few steps in front of me and took out a bottle of water. I slowed down. It didn’t appear she was going to drink it.
I pretended to rummage through my gym bag in order to observe her. She leaned way over, after removing the cap to the water bottle, and singled out one red zinnia in the garden that grew beside the iron fence. Carefully, even lovingly, she allowed the flower to drink.
An amazing thing happened. It felt as though someone had poured joy directly into my soul. One flower in all the hundreds had been tended to with such deliberate care. The woman straightened up and walked to her car.
I lingered by the red zinnia. Somehow, I felt refreshed, as though God had reached down to Earth and touched me. “I see you, Marion. I love you.”
Father, You find such tender ways to show me Yourself when I need You most.