It's one of the major reasons we bought this house. It's right outside our gate, and our front porch overlooks it all. It changes with the seasons: as it is now, browned with autumn frosts and thirsty from long summer drought.
It's peaceful and quiet, this piece of land outside our gate. It spreads itself out between the surrounding hills, purpled by sunset shadows. As light fades, the meadow shift subtly. As the seasons merge one into another, the meadow reflects the passing months in flora and fauna.
When snow falls in our Southern California village nestled in mountains 50 miles east of and 4000 feet above the sea, it's an event. Schools close, smoke from chimneys floats into paler grey skies, and the laughter of delighted children rings across the meadow. From the front porch I gaze across frosted lawn and whitened meadow fields, hands gripping tea mug, content in watching snowball ambushes and the creation of Calvin-styled snowmen.
And spring greens the fields as rains arrive, soaking the thirsty soil and birthing wildflowers galore.
And through all seasons, in all weathers, I see Him at work as His Creation groans under high winds that rake between mountain peaks, and sings with bloom of daffodils across the valley in April. His Resurrection calls across the green meadows each spring, reminding us of His sacrifice, His new life.
I see Him as Grace arrives in the form of welcome rain, so scarce in parched Southern California, often more brown than green. I see His gentleness in the small animals that skirt the new growth, shyly peeping at us as we stroll by on the road. I see His majesty in glorious sunsets that brighten dusky skies.
His beauty blooms forth in fresh spring foliage, in night skies studded with sparkling diamonds, the constellations glowing true, in fall colour dotting the treetops, in snow tumbling from leaden skies.
How can I not see Him in the midst of His Creation?
"Be exalted, O God, above the heavens! Let your glory be over all the earth!" --Psalm 57:5Seeing Him here, now and always,