Gardens and Grace: The Tree in That Other Yard

A few weeks ago, I took a morning walk with the puppy before anyone else had gotten out of bed.  The air was crisp and clear, and the streets were still moist with dew.  It was an absolutely lovely fall morning to walk around my neighborhood.

The last couple of months have been busy, so I haven't walked as much.  Somewhere along the line, summer melted into fall, and the world came alive with color.  I was thoroughly enjoying the beauty of all the hues and textures in the neighborhood landscaping until I rounded the corner and saw it-- a glorious red tree in the front yard of a house on the next block.

Tall, stately, majestic and beautiful-- this grand, flaming-red tree.

In the midst of my admiration-- in the midst of my praise of a Creator who had the paintbrush and creativity to give us good gifts like crimson trees-- where did my fickle, weak heart want to run?

"I wish I had a red tree like that in my yard."

There it is.  I'm ashamed to admit it, but that discontentment had reared its ugly head yet again.

I thought about this all the way home.  How is it that my heart jumps so quickly to comparison, discontentment, and longing instead of thankfulness?  I've been given so much.

A few minutes later, I rounded the corner to my street and was struck by the colors in my own yard.  No, I didn't have a red tree, but the burning bushes and burgundy mums were vibrant and beautiful.

  Some white mums had actually taken on a lovely lavender tinge.

Some of the big trees had already lost their leaves, but plenty of gold remained on the other ones.  Gazing down the block, all of the colors jumped out in their glory-- one long continuous stream of fall beauty.

How is it that I see the gifts in other people's lives so much more quickly than I notice the ones in my own?  As I come to the end of the month of Thanksgiving, I'm struck again by the need to be thankful in all circumstances-- to be content with the things I have.  The Bible says that godliness with contentment is great gain, and I'm learning that the key to contentment is a spirit of thankfulness.

It's not even remotely productive to compare myself, my house, my yard, my children, my possessions, my husband, or my talents with the gifts God has given to others.  It is a tool of the enemy to get me to take my eyes of Christ and put them squarely on myself-- which usually just ends in disappointment and sinful attitudes.

As I pass into December-- the month of Advent and reflection on Immanuel-- I have a renewed desire to count my blessings-- to gaze intently at Christ as the first and best gift, and then be thankful for each good gift that God has given me beyond that.

The yard is now put to sleep, the lawn bags have been loaded on the truck for their composting adventure, and the time for listening in my garden has grown short, but the grace poured down continues.  Spring will come again, but for now, the winter provides time for listening in a different way.  Will I have the ears to hear?  I pray so.