Tip of My Iceberg

The waiting was over. The cement truck arrived, and the concrete was finally poured for our patio.

The process began a year ago when we determined we were going to expand our small porch to a bigger space to accommodate our growing family and the friends we wanted to entertain outside in our wonderful Florida weather.

I was grateful I wasn’t there. I was part of a team putting on a women’s retreat over the weekend, and I was focused on what needed to be done for the gals coming.

I’d actually put the patio out of my mind. Hard to imagine when my question every day had been, “Do you think they’ll pour the cement today?”

The retreat was a huge success, and each member of our team was joyfully exhausted. God showed up in remarkable ways as these women were given space to focus on life challenges and losses.

As I drove home, I felt the heaviness of the weekend hitting my heart like a sledgehammer. My weariness was soul deep.

When I got home, everyone asked how the weekend had gone. I launched into a description of the positives I felt had resulted from our time.

No one seemed interested.

My son-in-law wandered to the window and called his daughter to see a deer. With antlers. We’ve quite a few deer in our back yard, but the bucks don’t come around as often as the does and fawns do. So I followed them to the window.

And saw the poured concrete.

John said, “Finally!”

He asked how I missed obvious hints they’d been dropping about looking out the back window. Outside he showed me pieces of concrete hardened on the driveway and in the lawn, the powdered cement sprinkled like pixie dust everywhere.

It was so obvious, I missed it.

When I saw the indications of where the truck had been and the cement particles scattered everywhere, it seemed ridiculous that I hadn’t seen any of that.

I’d been so occupied with what I was focused on that I’d missed the thing I’d been waiting for. My anticipation had been lost in the weariness of my mind.

How often in life do I miss the little surprises, the awe and wonder of the moment, because something weighs on me? Or I’ve so quickly moved to the next best thing that I overlook what’s right in front of me? Too often, unless something is dramatic and makes a big splash in my life, I can ignore the beauty in the present. The hope of now.

Small blessings and awe-inspired moments are God winks. Times when it’s nothing I’ve done, nothing I deserved, but I’ve experienced God’s grace and favor toward me.

Life is full of them. He longs for us to know the depth and richness of His love for us, and He draws us to awareness with the small things. A beautiful sunset. The smile of a baby.

A slab of concrete.

What does it take for you to really see His fingerprints in all of life?

Hopefully not a cement block.