Godís Paintbrush

by John C. Westervelt

On a late September afternoon, sitting in a comfortable chair at my kitchen table, I gaze out the window after finishing lunch. The sun streaks through the oak tree splashing on the dogwood below. The leaves on the dogwood are a mixture of red, gold, and green. Those catching the sun are nearly translucent and brighter colors than the others. Muscles taut from my morning with preschool children go limp, as I watch God work his magic with his paintbrush.

A part of me wants to linger. Another part says, "Itís time to trim the yaupon holly." Standing beside the yaupon holly, I pause to absorb the beauty of the four-foot square of low, icy-pink periwinkles in the center of the patio. Beyond the edge of the patio in the rose garden is a hedge of four intertwined Earth-Kind Knock Out roses covered with red blossoms. Earth-Kind roses, developed by Texas A&M, are new in my garden. I chose them because they are immune to black spot. Beyond the red grouping is a single shrub rose covered in white. In the fall, I reap the benefits of my labor in the spring.

I appreciate the beauty of Godís paintbrush in nature even more when I have contributed to His artistry. Could this feeling be similar to Davidís wonder at the Creator of the universe allowing him to play a part in Godís design?

"When I consider your heavens,
the work of your fingers,
the moon and the stars,
which you have set in place,
what is man that you are mindful of him,
the son of man that you care for him?
You made him a little lower than the heavenly beings
and crowned him with glory and honor.

You made him ruler over the works of your hands;
you put everything under his feet." Psalm 8: 3 Ė 6

Does the "everything under his feet" include my garden in the fall?

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