Last evening, I took the children to a small playground near where I grew up. They ran, squealed and played like wild things. And since no one was watching, I joined them. We kicked off our flip flops (and Little Boy kicked off his cowboy boots). We ran through the grass. Played tag. Flew high on the swings. Had a ball wearing ourselves out like a bunch of crazies. (Yep. Even me. But I only played one round of tag. This out-of-shape self can only run so much without doing some kind of permanent damage.) We breathed in the fresh, cool, country air. Enjoyed the sounds of a summer evening. And, as we were leaving, we saw our old friend out working in his garden; so we went over to say "hello". But, as everyone knows, you can't get that close to the soft, loose soil of a garden without wigglin' your toes in that dirt. So that's what the young'uns did. They ran and squealed and laughed and kicked up dirt. Mr. Mac just watched and chuckled. I think He enjoyed it as much as I did. Before we left, he walked them down to where the cantaloupes were growing, so they could take some of the garden goodness home.
I watched them, my little ones enjoying the simple things, as tears welled up in my eyes and spilled over.
Why? Why am I so blessed? Why have I been given so much joy? I deserve nothing good from God's hand. Nothing.
But He gives good.
More than good.
Over and over and over again.
And, too often, I'm so busy I don't even notice.
Because it's the little things, the oft unnoticed things, the precious, fleeting-moment things that are the real blessings. Gifts from our Father's hand....given when we least deserve it.
And, sometimes, when we pause from all the hurry and scurry of life, we're amazed at what we've taken for granted.