Thursday, July 2, 2009

Dearest God,

Who is to say who God is? Can you be in a dirty, old pair of jeans, wearing a long scar from two transplants? A neighbor man in his 40's who counts every day more than he imagined he would live?

Eric mowed our grass. I heard the mower running. I thought he was just mowing his own yard. But no, I watched as he crisscrossed in the long back yard that butts up to the woods near to the river. I thought to myself, my how he looks like Jesus. Funny thing. A child can look like Jesus when you need to see him.

Gifts of life suddenly show up where you least expect them. Perhaps that's what makes them so beautiful. Unexpected. Grace is when you know they have your thumbprint on them.

To you
is all
praise owed.
You walk
this earth,
here and there,
everywhere.
I can
see you here
and someone somewhere
can see you there.
It's the miracle
of faith,
of love and grace.
Thank you
for today's grace,
for Eric,
for his
second life,
for hope.

Love, Andrea