When driving down a straightaway it’s exhilarating when every stoplight is green. I can usually breeze right through half a dozen on green before one turns to red and calls for a stop. Once you stop, there’s a wait involved before it returns to green.
I get excited for greenlights because they mean go, and I’ve always been the type person who is sitting on go. Fall is here, we’ve turned our clocks back for daylight savings time, the holidays are upon us, and year end is right around the corner, but I’m still keeping an eye out for the greenlight.
Over the weekend I drove into town to pick up some household items, and leaving the store I decided to exit the way of a large intersection full of stoplights. As I pulled up to the intersection every light was red, so I stopped and wondered out of all the red lights, who would get to go first?
I was turning right, so it was no big deal because we can turn right on red in Texas, but this intersection was full of vehicles just waiting and hoping for their greenlight. Looking up at the stoplight in that moment I saw a green arrow dropped down in place of the red. My lane was first to go.
That’s the thing about greenlights. You don’t know it’s yours until you pull up to the red. It’ll turn green when we least expect it. Keep your eyes open for the greenlight.
It’s become customary around 2:00 PM to be outside watering plants. My Dad used to say, “It’s the hottest part of the day”, but I’m beginning to embrace the heat. It’s not humid at that time, but it is hot.
As I was out there today, hose in hand with the spray nozzle attached, I noticed the sky getting dark, and clouds rolling in. I had worked my way around the yard and was spraying the last flower bed when I heard the thunder. Dropping the hose, because the nozzle is stainless steel, I rallied the dogs and we went inside.
It was funny but I couldn’t help thinking, if I’d waited 15 minutes before doing the watering myself, I would’ve seen there was a better plan.
Standing at the window, watching a steady rain drench everything I had just watered, the 50 foot watering hose lying in the rain seemed small. I whispered, “I’m sorry I ran out in front of you again.” That has happened on numerous occasions, and it’s a continual education discerning the difference between God’s timing and mine.
Then I felt Him smile and say, “Hey Barb. It was only 15 minutes. You’re doing better.”
During the Texas snow/ice storm, I saw a post on Facebook that made me smile. It was a photo of a front yard covered in tree branches, and said, “It’s raining firewood.”
I needed to see that because the most unnerving part of that week for me was the location of our home. The house is surrounded by ginormous oak trees and rests beneath their canopy. We’d hear the crack of a branch, then boom onto the roof, and the branch would slide and fall to the ground. I did a lot of meditating that week, and thanked God for metal roofs.
Once the snow had melted away, I stepped outside to look at the front yard, and was in agreement that it had rained firewood. The yard was covered with sticks, twigs and a few branches, but I looked at the sticks as, ‘kindling’, and the branches were easily broken into firewood. No healthy branch breaks. It was a good day for a fire, as I removed the cover from the firepit.
God knows my heart and knows I love to sit near a fire. I gathered up all the sticks and laid some in the pit. There were so many I had to start a pile of them nearby, along with the smaller broken branches. The larger branches were laid aside for future use. I sat by the fire for hours that day, and just pondered God’s goodness and grace. If it’s gonna rain, let it rain firewood.
We are in December, and there’s still no full size Christmas tree in our home. I bought a small one and it’s perched on the built-in cabinet in the back of the house. The dogs enjoy the soft glow of the lights at night.
This is our third year in this little lake house, and the last couple of years I’ve thought about hanging Christmas lights across the front of the house. I’d always talk myself out of it with a mountain of excuses, but this year there were no more excuses.
I had a tangled up mass of multi-colored icicle lights that have moved with me over the years. I began the task of gently untangling them, plugged them in, and to my surprise they still worked.
I began tacking them along the roofline, and don’t know why I saw it as such a daunting task. My mind told me it would take al lot of time, when in reality it took very little time and went along seamlessly. The task looked more difficult in my mind than it actually was.
I think a lot of things in life are like that. We tend to overthink our ideas, which prevents us from doing what the heart wants, and simply walking through. We are vehicles of the heart, and my hope is that you’ll follow yours. It may look daunting at first, but you’ll never know unless you try, and try we must.