In the springtime, we are surrounded by miracles, and I often find myself so glad to be out here in the sticks, surrounded by cow pastures and the smell of dirt and new growth.
I burst with thankfulness as I see the tulips burst, freshly picked, from my daughter’s hands.
I marvel in the dirt-smell of the newly-plowed fields and the 18-hours-a-day rumble of sprayers and equipment going up and down the road.
But it is in the leaping miracle of new life that I find myself humbled and brought back to He who made me.
He clothes the fields in bouquets and provides for the smallest ant.
So how is it that I think he’s not going to provide for me?
How can I worry about my family, when God must love them so much more than I do?
