Saturday, January 3, 2015. I tried something that have haven’t done for a few years: I set some New Year’s resolutions. One was to begin using the Neat scanner that I spent $400 on, two or three years ago, to faithfully scan in all my receipts. Another was to stop spending days on end in my pajamas and to get dressed daily.
Wednesday, January 14, 2015. Nope! I haven’t even tried to dig my scanner out of my cluttered spare room. I guess I’ll try for next year!
Thursday, January 20, 2015. Yesterday, while waiting outside the apartment of a friend, who needed a ride to a medical appointment and was getting ready inside, I noticed that a maintenance man had made some nasty, deep ruts in the grass with his truck, by pulling up close to one of the buildings. My first thought was,”That’s a shame.”
Normally, the maintenance staff of the apartment complex took meticulous care of the building grounds. But, since the complex is due to be demolished in a couple of months, with all residents, including my friend, being required to relocate, I supposed that the workers were just not concerned with appearances anymore.
But, then as I walked around in the grassy yard, I reminded myself that I had seen the maintenance man a few days earlier, and he had walked with a noticeable limp in one leg. My demeanor changed instantly, from that of disgust at some faceless being who had been so careless, to that of compassion, for the humble and cheerful older man I had seen carrying a box full of tools across the yard between two apartment buildings, the other day. Would he be out of work until the new units were completed? I felt sad.
As I approached the ruts and idly glanced down at the ugly brown gouges in the bright, green lawn, I noticed something glistening in the morning dew. It turned out to be a little spider web, spread out between two ridges in one of the deeper ruts.
As I looked down at the tiny web, spread so carefully across the muddy rut, I was overcome with pure awe. It wasn’t sagging like larger webs do, but instead, was strung taut and proud, like a seller’s tent at an exotic bazaar, across the inch-and-a-half space, between two random and slightly uneven ridges.
A nameless, faceless, hidden insect was reminding me of the infinite care that our Heavenly Father put into all His creation. From the least to the greatest, all have been given meticulous attention. All, from the tiniest sub-atomic particle, to the tallest and most spectacular mountain—and the infinite creations in-between and beyond—are the results of the spectacular design of a loving Creator, Who also gifted us with the ability to appreciate the sheer beauty of it all.
A spider doesn’t need to ask for, or be told to create its own shelter, or set its own table. It seizes every random opportunity, and makes the best of it. It was given the freedom, and the instinct, to engage in the industrious behavior that provides it with the food and shelter it requires, from practically anywhere. How fortunate to be so blessed! What a tiny marvel God created!
How blessed then is my friend, who is facing a possibly troubling medical diagnosis? Or, how blessed is the elderly maintenance man, who walks with a limp, and may soon be looking for a job?
They are both very blessed as well. And so am I, for we humans get to call on our Creator for help in time of need. He cares. He listens. And He answers. He truly is our shelter, His presence to be required more than our daily food. The glistening dew drops of that little spider’s web brought an all-encompassing awareness of the goodness of Heaven down to me that day.