Pools of Blessing
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Psalm 84:5-6

Happy are those who are strong in the Lord, who set their minds on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. When they walk through the Valley of Weeping it will become a place of refreshing springs, where pools of blessing collect after the rains.

Pools of Blessing
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In the Details

10/31/2016

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The image above is a picture taken three or so years ago when I was heading home after visiting St. Louis for a writing workshop. My seatmate took it after I pointed out how beautiful the scene was. She sent the picture my way and it's now  one of my favorite images. The trip to St. Louis was a God-ordained event, a story too long to share at present. Let's just say that as I flew past this beautiful display of God's creation it reminded me that God is, indeed, in the details.

November, 2013

Psalm 37:23 The steps of the godly are directed by the Lord. He delights in every detail of their lives. Though they stumble, they will not fall, for the Lord holds them by the hand. (NLT)


I walk through the living room, toys, games, clothes scattered everywhere. It's like navigating my way through a minefield. The dirty clothes pile is overflowing from the laundry room into the hallway, threatening to take over the entire second floor. In the kitchen, pots and pans have collected in the sink like age-old artifacts. Hardened sauces, soups, and casseroles stick to each one. The floor is covered in pet hair and long past due its regular mopping. Little smudges of fingerprints and hand prints mark the sliding glass door.

Toothpaste covers the bathroom sinks. Chocolate, at least I hope that's what it is, covers the light switches in ooey-gooey ickiness. Most of the bathrooms smell like a little boy with bad aim has frequently visited them. Everything is a disaster. It makes my head swim. I head to bed delaying the inevitable. My messy house is just too much to deal with on a Saturday night.

On Sunday, I wake up feeling refreshed and rested. Then I remember the condition my house is in, and I'm tempted to bury my head in the pillow and never come out. Having no options but to tackle the mess, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and whisper a desperate plea heavenward, "I don't know how it's going to happen, but, oh God, please help me get the house back in to order today.”

An hour or so later, the kids are fighting, I've barely made a dent in the mess, and I'm about ready to lose my mind. Then, inspiration strikes. I've called my kids down for breakfast seven times and have been ignored all seven times. So, I try something new. When they finally come down, I mention that they ignored me seven times and now they owe me seven chores.

It works like a charm. I may be on to something. There's a lot of cleaning that can get done when your children each owe you seven jobs. And the jobs have to be done up to Mommy standards—no half-hearted efforts today. If I'm dissatisfied with a job they've done, I supervise them until it's done correctly.

Walking through a much cleaner house, I smile gleefully. Maybe I can make this work in my favor for the entire day. In the afternoon, when they begin fighting like cats and dogs, I implement my plan once more. The extra jobs thing worked pretty well when they ignored me, why not try it again? When another altercation between them commences, I'm ready. "You have too much energy," I tell them, "You obviously need to burn some of that off.  Every time you argue, you get a new job."

All afternoon long, all evening long, I give my little minions chore after chore . . . done up to my standards. By bedtime, my house is clean and I've barely lifted a finger all day.

Before I tuck her in, I reveal my important secret to my daughter. "Katie," I tell her, "I prayed this morning that God would help me get our disaster of a house back in order, and He answered my prayer."

She looks at me, a funny expression on her face, "Oh, Mommy, that's ridiculous. God doesn't care about stuff like that."

So, I tell her the story, how God cares about every detail of our lives. What's more, I tell her that He even has the hairs on our head all numbered. "Can you do that, Katie?" I ask, "Can you count the number of hairs on your head?" She gives me a silly grin. I can tell she's intrigued.

I go to bed that night, a satisfied smile on my face. My house is clean, and I know it's more than just a fluke.  I prayed. God answered. It's as simple as that.

God's in the details, folks. He is. If you don't believe me, try it yourself. Pray about your problem, no matter how small it may be. Even your most "insignificant" problem is important to Him. Maybe it's time you started believing that.

Matthew 10:29-31 [29] Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care.[b]30 And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered.31 So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.

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