aefenglommung (aefenglommung) wrote,
aefenglommung
aefenglommung

In the garden . . .

There was slim pickin's at church this morning. Wonder where they all were. Some were sick (lots of flu going 'round). Some were granting themselves a plenary indulgence to play hooky, I suspect. And yet -- there were new people there, too: first-timers; other recent arrivals.

God keeps bringing near those who stood far off, even as those who had been near go straying.

I look out over my "field," and confess that I don't make the plants grow. God's seed sprouts where and when it will. The seedlings burst forth, seeking life. He waters them. He shines upon them. All I do is hoe and harvest (and, some would say, spread fertilizer).
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