Do you ever feel kind of small? Like the world spins, and days come like clockwork and zoom way too quickly, and who are you in this great big world? Do you ever feel like the things that matter to you shouldn't matter so much, because in the scheme of things, they are probably minor? Your hopes and thoughts and wishes and worries... maybe sort of first-world, sort of not-that-worthy of making a big deal out of...
When I'm tempted to feel that way - small and unseen - a mama doing ordinary mama-stuff every day, I stand in my window area, coffee in hand, and I look at my goats. That may seem like a super-weird thing to do. (It may seem super-weird to have goats in your yard in the first place, never mind to look at them when you want to get perspective on your value in this world, but trust me here...) And then I look down the hill at our orchard. And I remember that the God whose great big power spoke the entire universe into being, the one who thunders and splits the sea and stills the storms, that God sees me. And He cares about the small places of my heart. And yours, too.
See, as long as I can remember, I've sort of secretly wanted to be a farmer and have goats and an apple tree. Lia almost lost her full mind laughing when she was about middle school age and I told her this shocking thing. She'd only known the acrylic-nail, high-heel, dressed-up mama who didn't own flat shoes or a yard that one could even try to fit goats into. So we laughed together at the absurdity of this dream. And life went on.
But three years ago, we moved to the farmhouse. I walked through the yard, and while standing under the umbrella of apple tree branches shielding me from the summer rain shower that had begun, I looked up and all around, and I realized that there had been an apple tree tucked into the corner of my heart for years - since my grandmother sold her old house with the apple tree - and God had not only seen that tiny dream, He did me one better. Well, twelve better, to be exact. I had longed for an apple tree, and God gave us a little orchard with thirteen trees. Kind of no big deal, right? I mean, I know that God's not a wish-fairy or some sort of genie in the sky, but He loves us, and He delights in shining that love into our lives in all sorts of ways that might not mean anything to anyone but you or me.
And then there are the goats.
My husband and I went to a way-cool marriage weekend with our Sunday school class back in October, and the whole thing was a total blast. One of the things we talked about was the concept of Love Languages. When it was time for a quick break between sessions, Selden and I scurried to the car and drove a short way to a coffee shop to caffeinate, and on the road we discussed our love languages. I wondered out loud if "livestock" should be added to the current list of options. Because the most romantic surprise I've ever received was my baby goat, Tucker, whose little itty bitty goat-face popped up from behind the steering wheel and bleated, "maaaaa-maaaaa" to me while Selden beamed with pride at having pulled off the ultimate romance move.
Since you can't have just one goat, we have four. They're a bit like shoes. A girl can never have enough.
I love the story in the Old Testament of Elijah, the prophet, when he was despairing and in a really tough place emotionally, and he went into this cave to sleep, knowing that people were trying to kill him as they'd done the other prophets (makes me feel sort of lame complaining about having a rough day). And God tells Elijah to go stand on the mountain, because the Lord was going to pass by. So Elijah's standing there...
"Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire." (1 Kings 19:11, 12 NIV)
And this is the part that always makes me smile....
"And after the fire came a gentle whisper." (1 Kings 19:12b)
The God who controls the fire and the thunder and wind that can tear and rip through mountains and who can make the whole earth shake in his presence... That big, powerful God - He sees you and me, feeling small, feeling like we need a break, feeling like we're not sure if what we're doing or dreaming or fearing is really that worthy of anyone's attention, let alone His.
And He knows us well enough to know when we need Him to use a whisper. Or a goat.
I'm learning to listen for the whispers. When things aren't going the way my control-freak, type-A personality wants them to, when I'm freaking out over trying to sell our beautiful old house in the next town over, at the worst time possible because who's house hunting throughout the holidays anyway, during heating season, and nobody has gone to look at it, and I'm picturing myself being old and gray and paying for this house until the second coming... I'm learning how to stand on the mountainside and know that God is there with me, and it's going to be all good. For me, the whisper of God's love often sounds remarkably like four goats screeching "Maaaa-maaaaa! Maaaa-maaaaaaaaaaa!" at the top of their lungs at all hours.
How does the whisper sound to you?
