Heavenly Patterns

I was focused on getting her pool shoes to the house before ABC left with her Dad for their annual July trip to Boerne. Driving past my neighbor's home, my eyes and my heart were quickened by a sight I've never seen before.

My neighbors are elderly. I often see their grandson, probably in his 30's mowing their very large lawn and the larger, adjacent empty lot. He was in shorts and shirtless. Certainly not newsworthy. What caught my eye was his son, probably 4, also in shorts and shirtless. He was pushing the fertilizer spreader. His face was a portrait of fierce determination. His hair was soaked in sweat and he had the same crinkled line between his brow as his father. How I wanted to pull out my camera and capture this father/son dual effort of service. Lest, I earn a crazy stalker, paparazzi reputation in my hood, I refrained.

My restraint was mostly because I wouldn't have been able to capture the most charming aspect of my snippet of life this morning. The little boy was trotting along in the most haphazard pattern. So much so, that I wondered at first if he was being chased. I slowed and watched. No. He was just pushing, with wild abandon and without any thought to what might happen after his work was complete.

I immediately admired the father. How wonderful for him to say, "Yes, son, I'd love for you to push the fertilizer spreader." Wheels. Gears. Noises. Awful smells. Perfect little boy toy. I was grinning ear to ear on my drop off at the mailbox with Annie Beth. She had brought out some of her art to show me and gain deserved accolades. We share a love for creating and for praise.

I pulled into Peggy and Jack's drive to turn around and see the progress of my young laboring friend. I began to visualize my elderly neighbor's yard after watering. I wondered if, perhaps, Dad had not loaded the spreader with fertilizer. I slowed once again and noticed, that, yes, fertilizer was making it's way in rapid fire patterns across the pale, green landscape. I loved the father at that instant. He knew exactly what his son was doing and allowed him to be absolutely lost in the joy of four year old work.

A series of pictures is nestled inside my own brain right now.
1. Little shirtless boy pushing his big boy spreader complete with fertilizer in streaks and circles and lightening bolt patterns across his great grandparent's lawn.
2. The knowing grin I shared with the Dad as I passed the second time.
3. The possibility of taking a picture of the lawn after rain and without fear of being arrested for stalking.
4. The possible, inevitable pattern seen only from above and afar by a select few, for a brief time.

My best guess is that only a few of us could know what that lawn would look like next week without the inevitable intervention from a loving father and responsible grandson, who understands the value of work and the joy of laboring alongside loved ones.

I said aloud, "Lord, thanks for a reminder."

I wonder what the patterns of my wild, often erratic, sometimes lethargic work look like from above? I'm grateful for a Father who invites me to work alongside Him, even when He knows I'll make a big ol' mess in the process. Then. He takes my messes and uses Living Water for growth and life, transforming them into beauty.