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“For, behold, I am for you, and I will turn to you, and you will be cultivated and sown.”
At the end of our Thanksgiving celebration a few years ago, as I walked my wife’s parents to their car, my mother-in-law commented on how nice our lawn looked. The large trees lining the sidewalk at the front of our house shed most of their leaves by this time of the season. About a month ago, I silently recalled, the yard was covered with a thick layer of brown leaves, but tonight the leaves were gone. I remarked to my in-laws, “It’s amazing how the wind came from nowhere and blew these leaves away, isn’t it? I never even had to rake!”
My wife overheard our conversation and rejoined, “It must be the same wind that blows clean underwear into your dresser drawer every day!”
Apparently, there was a reason for our yard’s nice appearance. My wife informed us that she spends an average of an hour every week during the fall raking, bagging, and dumping leaves. Somehow that little cause-and-effect factoid escaped my notice.
A little over six years ago my precious wife died of Leukemia. The brown leaves on the lawn are a harsh reminder of the gaping void she left in our family. I so profoundly miss her.
The Lord promised the land of Israel would be “cultivated and sown.”
“For, behold, I am for you, and I will turn to you,
and you will be cultivated and sown.”
and you will be cultivated and sown.”
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I must never allow the fact of God’s providential care escape my notice.
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