A Message in the Grass

We have, I think, about ten different varieties of grass in our yard.  They grow at different speeds, the upshot of that being that our lawn only looks good for about fifteen minutes after we mow it.  After that, the tall, clumpy, seedy stuff springs up in little clusters about the yard, giving it a disreputable and…well…seedy  look.  Blue Ridge Blue Collar Man calls it mongrel grass.

But one of those ten varieties grows in lovely curlicues and elegant swoops—in sort of a paisley pattern.  I love it and wish our whole yard was covered in it.  It looks a bit like a maze or like ancient hieroglyphics.  I study it carefully sometimes as though I might break the code, as if God had sent us messages in that grass that we could decipher. 

That’s why it’s a good thing I’m not God.  I would spend WAY too much time engaged in that sort of thing.  You know—like realigning the stars every night to write messages in the sky from loved ones who have passed to the bereft ones left behind.   Or maybe I’d have the wind blow sand into whimsical animal shapes to delight children on the beach.  Or I’d have a flock of birds suddenly singing in unison the Hallelujah chorus.  Or perhaps, as God, I’d be more petty—planting massive piles of dog poo in front of rich, arrogant types so they’d sink up to the top of their Gucci’s just as they are about to meet an important client for lunch.   Or for those non-handicapped people who park in handicapped spaces?  I’d have all four of their tires go flat, their steering wheels fall off, and for good measure, their car radio start playing “Feelings” nonstop in a continuous loop that they can’t turn off.  Or how about this—every time a politician lies to the American public, I’d make their noses grow longer like Pinocchio.   Right there on national television.

Like I said, it’s a good thing I’m not God.

But really, who knows?  Maybe God does this all the time and we just don’t notice.  I like to think that.  Because this week, as I was mowing, I saw this in the grass:

 

Was it a message from God?  I’m sure many would tell me it was just a random grass growth pattern.  Perhaps.  But I’m going to claim it as a miracle, as a message, as a gift.  Because I needed to see that and be reminded of what really matters. 

And, Lord knows, the world needs it.  Love, sweet love.  Especially now. So now I send it out, knowing that it will reach only the few of you who read my blog, but hoping that message in the grass will somehow touch someone who needs their own small, but wondrous miracle. 

And I hope you’ll keep looking and listening—in the grass, in the sky, in the rustle and whisper of leaves in the wind.  You never know where you’ll find miracles.  You never know where you’ll see the signs that God has passed near. 

But, for certain, if you don’t look up, you’ll never see the realigning of the stars.   If you don’t look down, you’ll miss that message in the grass.  And, if you don’t listen, you’ll never, ever hear those birds singing Hallelujah.    :-)

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14 Responses to “A Message in the Grass”

  1. Judy Says:

    How wonderful to find a message in the grass. I am glad you passed it on..
    I have loved looking at the clouds since I was a child. I never thought about the grass. If it is nature, you don’t miss it. Maybe it is a sign for all who see it?? My son is having surgery on Friday for the kidney stones again. I will go and keep TW. He has a large one he cannot pass and they have to break it up. I will probably be offline for a few days. Thanks for posting this Beth. It makes me feel better to know that God’s love surrounds us every day even in the grass we walk on.

  2. June Says:

    I’ve made pictures with clouds, but never grass :-) This is so cool!

  3. marion Says:

    Lovely…we do need reminders to look around us, above us, below us, and treasure what we are so fortunate to have. We were away for two months this summer and I was delighted to find my rhubarb plant (the 4th one I’ve tried to grow since moving here) survived the summer drought and sprouted nice stalks.

    I now have my own pie plant. Small victories, but delightful.

  4. Benjamin Says:

    The whip-poor-wills almost sing “Hall-e-lujah”. You have such a creative mind, Mommy. Good job for over a year of wisdom, whim, and wonder.

    I’m not sure if I told you, but at Max Patch I found a piece of string bundled up in a heart–I thought that was pretty remarkable (even if it was another kid like us).

  5. Pat Says:

    Lovely post…both profound and whimsical. And mongrel grass…I love it!

    Actually the top picture reminds me of the profile of a baseball player holding the bat sort of crouched over home plate ready to take a swing. Go Phillies!

  6. wesleyjeanne Says:

    Yes, yes, it’s a message from God, absolutely. An answer to prayers.

    And you know, Benjamin is right: God does send those playful little messages, like the clouds pouring as if from a pitcher over the ridges, the whipoorwhills, or bull thistle…

    Of course the grass thing could be Aliens…

  7. Clara Melvin Says:

    I’m going to start looking at the grass. I always have looked to see what I could find in a cloud, but never the grass. God speaks to us in mysterious ways. Thanks for the post today. You have such a way with words!

  8. Sara Says:

    Love really is…all around us.

  9. colleen Says:

    I have what I call fairy circles in my yard. They are darker grass mixed in with lighter colored grass in the form of circles.

    I found a message in the grass yesterday … a row of mushrooms that looked like stepping stones in a circled flower garden. Never saw a heart yet. But now I’ll be looking!

  10. Linda Hancock Says:

    Hi Beth
    I stop in from time to time to see what you’re thinking. Thanks for the Max Patch pics…makes me so homesick. I just want to say that I really enjoy your blog…your writing, your perspective, your shared faith…all of it. Congratulations on a year’s worth of thought-provoking blogs.
    Linda H

  11. CountryDew Says:

    Miracles come in all shapes and sizes and probably happen all the time, only we don’t notice.

    Love your hubby’s name for the grass.

  12. Going Crunchy Says:

    I hear you Beth, and great post.

    Um, I’d like people that are snarky to us that work with the public sector to suddenly get a major case of the crotch itchies or a jiant case of the hiccups every time they decided to be yucky just beause they thought they could. I’d like speeding drivers to suddenly have their car be stuck at 45 every time they dd speedy bad moves on the interstate.

    I’d plant a tree that kids could climb in every front yard. I’d bring little fairies to life and have them visit. Oohhhhh….this is fun! Shannon

  13. Thank You « Blue Ridge Blue Collar Girl Says:

    [...] my friend Judy’s comment, she mentioned my post on finding a heart in the grass.  I thought those of you that read that post earlier might be happy to know that the heart’s [...]

  14. Signs and Wonders and Marvels and Miracles « Blue Ridge Blue Collar Girl Says:

    [...] did, especially not three times.  But I’m quite sure God sends them, just the same.  Remember the heart in the grass?  Well, it’s still there.  I looked.  It looks a little different now, but that’s okay.  My [...]

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