shrubbery

Today my father drove three hours to plant some shrubs for me.  He worked hard in the South Carolina sun for over six hours planting them (almost twenty shrubs in all).  He dug the holes by hand, no modern machinery today; my dad’s always been that way.  He dug the holes, planted the shrubs, and taught me how to take care of each one (his college degree is in forestry).


He always amazes me in times like that.

Seriously, if you met my dad, you’d probably think that he is an butt, because, well, for the most part, he can be.  Often he’s rude, insensitive, impatient, overbearing, and just plain old grumpy.  But, to me, his son.  There’s a whole different person exposed.  He caring, considerate, helpful, giving, and most of all … he’s loving.  My father is loving in ways that I can’t really express; he hugs me and he’s never been too much of a man to tell me that he “loves me”.

Its funny how words like “but” change everything.  

I was living a very typical life, chasing everything the world values and holds dear. But then …  but then Jesus happened to me.  Until then, Jesus seemed distant, obscure, and difficult, but then I met Him.  My life seemed pointless and meaningless, but then Jesus gave life purpose … purpose in everything from checkout lines at WalMart to the way I drive my car.  

If you look hard, sometimes you can find Jesus in the shrubbery and “buts”.

1 Comment

  1. I love that. “Sometimes you can find Jesus in the shrubbery and buts.” The other day, i had the Jesus robe from the drama at the house and while i was outside working i turned around and Kt was standing amongst the shrubbery looking up to the sky with her hands raised making weird noises. She’s lovely.

    Seriously. i love that. thanks.

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