Moss is growing on our walking trail. It’s just beautiful. Amidst all the brown dirt and leaves, there is this beautiful green trail, like God rolled out the green carpet just for me.
I ran out to take pictures the other day and ended up sick. Later, I heard that the pollen level was high. I missed hearing Becky Wade, one of my favorite Christian authors, speak in the Dallas area.
But I wondered what makes moss grow? I don’t remember it growing here the past years, but it’s amazing how much we can forget from year to year.
Wikipedia wrote, “Mosses are small flowerless plants that typically grow in dense green clumps or mats, often in damp or shady locations.” Wikipedia went on to say that it doesn’t have seeds. I found that interesting. Something so soft and colorful and so plentiful could be seedless and flowerless. And soon, it will all be gone as though it were never there.
I love walking the mossy trail because my boots don’t get so dirty. And I don’t have to scrape them off as much when I walk back inside.
And it made me think about what is covering my life’s ground. Am I allowing Jesus, my beautiful Savior, to cover my ground? Or am I resorting to damp and shady locations?
I’ve had a rough week. It sounds silly to say that because I’m healthy and so are the girls. But one needs dental surgery to help her receding gum line, probably from her braces causing her teeth to move too rapidly. The other needs two wisdom teeth removed. Thankfully, she only has two. One daughter’s high school graduation is bearing down on me, and my mind wishes she could just stay little. And I’ve got more issues to add to the list, but I won’t do that to you.
I’m afraid my path is being covered with anxiety and fear—damp and shady. And I don’t want something temporary covering my ground. I certainly don’t want anxiety and fear to take up permanent residence either. I don’t want damp or shady.
Rolling things over and over in my mind can initially seem colorful and a soft place to step, because it’s my secret. Only God knows. But soon it becomes plentiful, and worry crowds out all good and good sense.
So what do I do?
I run to God. I run to Him in prayer. He’s my place of rest. And I plant my worn out boots on Him. He’s permanent in my life, and I want to reflect that, reflect His calmness, assurance, trust. I want to cover my boots in Him and never scrape Him off.
Because He makes walking this life’s path easier, more enjoyable, more peaceful.
Like the palm leaves placed down for Jesus, I want to place down my faith in Him. For Him to see, and for my heart to see. And I want to give Him a solid and dependable place to grow, and a solid place for me to trod. I want to welcome Him to my life, my problems, my heartaches, my joys.
I don’t want to hang my coat on things that are seedless and flowerless. I don’t want my relationship with Him to be seedless and flowerless—gone in time, poof, as though He were never there.
I want to hang my coat on Him.
The One strong and sturdy. The One standing. The One who will make me stand, when life feels like it’s dragging me down. I want Him to take center stage, take my hand, allowing the seedless and flowerless to disappear.
For the rest of my days. Because He meets me in the damp and shady.