Having a Four-Leaf Focus (Part 2)

I find four-leaf clovers. All the time. Lots of them. You can, too. It's a little science, a little faith, a little patience, and a little persistence

And here's a secret:

The more you look, 
the more you'll find.

I just walked outside after writing Having a Four-Leaf Focus Part 1 to check the mail.  I took my camera along, suspecting I could find a picture to share. I did. In a couple of minutes of looking, sure enough, I found this tableau over by the hammock. 

Here you go.
It's not a great picture, but I think you can see okay.

Can you see a four-leafer?

How many four-leafs can you see, exactly?! (That's a hint!)

Can you see two?
Look again:

There are two!
If you spotted them both, hooray for you!

And guess what? There are three!
See? One is just a little harder to find, that's all. 
It's new and so its stem is shorter.
Its leaves haven't spread wide.
It's barely above the winter thatch,
and it is hiding behind the big pretty one.
But it's there.

If you'll look for it.

And yep, I'm a looker. A lookey-loo. (Sometimes irritatingly so to the poor people around me.)

I'm all the time looking for four-leaf clovers,
                                  for little purple flowers hiding in the grass,
                                  to see God in my circumstances.

Legend has it that Eve carried a four-leaf clover out of the Garden of Eden, clinging to a little bit of paradise as she stepped out into a life she wasn't created to endure (but which was, in fact, always a necessary part of the plan).
The Scripture is silent about what all they took (other than those clothes), but the possibility of her wanting to take some little souvenir--some physical reminder that there really was a Garden of Eden and that she really had walked with God there, once--is understandable.
I surely do need some kind of reminder out here, don't you?

I don't have anything tangible from the Garden of Eden, but (Praise God!) my years of pitched battle against the Enemy, the world, and the flesh have gifted me a handful of four-leaf clover beliefs about God.

And man, am I grateful.

One of those beliefs is that God is always there
I battle mightily against terrible strongholds like insecurity and fear, against the tendency to gossip, against bitterness, lies, and pride. (And more mundanely, against piles of laundry, clutter, and a mental fog I seriously hope is just me adjusting to less estrogen in my veins.) 

I cling to those two beliefs (and their friends) when I'm up to my eyebrows in thatch like that little clover. (Or lava. Whichever.)

My failure to blog in-depth about the challenges of my walk has so far mostly been because I've bowed to the blogland conceit that dictates that I avoid too many too-personal details or any garden-variety angst. The consensus seems to be "Who wants to read all that?" Dire medical diagnoses and meteorite strikes are the exceptions I've noticed, but sharing anything less exotic is apparently de trop

(Fair Warning: I find that I'm thinking hard about that peculiar omission. 
Sharing a new cakeball recipe I came up with in my crafting time seems
 pretty insignificant compared to sharing God's constancy and love for
 me as I walk through a life that has so far been fraught with both
 remarkable and run-of-the-mill dangers, toils and snares. 
What are these for if not to give God the glory, I'm wondering?)

Steering clear of TMI for now, let me confess plainly: I'm a fallible and  fragile woman living in a terribly broken world, and Stuff Happens. To me, and often because of me. 

And no matter which category a circumstance falls into, I believe 
God uses it for my good and His glory. 

And that's amazing.

With a God like that, who needs luck?


Do you see what I see? When I went back outside to pull the four-leafers for the closeup photo, I found one more new, short clover, hiding behind the one on the far left in the top shot. (It's so new the pinking-shears edge is still on the leaves!)  

Four, inside just a few square inches. 


The more you look, 
the more you'll find.

No comments:

© 2012. All Rights Reserved. Design by Biyan Pasau
Blogging tips