Lush Meadows

God, my shepherd!
I don't need a thing.
You have bedded me down in lush meadows,
You find me quiet pools to drink from.
True to your word, 
You let me catch my breath
And send me in the right direction.
Even when the way goes through Death Valley,
I'm not afraid
when you walk by my side.
Your trusty shepherd's crook
Makes me feel secure.
You serve me a six-course dinner
Right in front of my enemies.
You revive my drooping head;
My cup brims with blessing.
I'm back home in the house of God
For the rest of my life.

Psalm 23 
(The Message)


Revisiting the Pasture

This morning, with a million thoughts running through my mind, I grabbed my snake gun and cell phone and hopped on the four-wheeler for an early ride through the pasture.  I hadn't been home since May and just needed a look at it.  For the first time in my life, and for the last three years,  this country girl has lived in a city.  All are referred to as cities in North Dakota, when in fact, Texas has six cities with populations greater than all of North Dakota (not including the uncountable oilfield workers). So I went to the pasture and I counted.  I counted the rabbits, and quail, and horned toads, and the blessings.  

I'm leaving the country tomorrow, but my country called while the laundry and the suitcases waited.  When I'm there I always think of Psalm 23 and King David saying "He maketh me to lie down in green pastures."  I wonder if the scripture really means that the creator of all the universe makes me, made me, created me to lie down in beautiful, tall, lush, green grassy pastures.  Like He created Adam and Eve to live in the Garden of Eden. Or maybe His plan for us was to live in rest and peace as if in a peaceful pasture. The grass we seeded a few years ago was tall and lush, but I would never consider lying in it with all the unseen things that bite and sting.  

But while I was in the pasture this morning, the concerns and plans of the day, ran down the tight tendons of my neck and fell off my shoulders like heavy weights crashing to the ground.  The pasture is part of my family inheritance and I wonder if my Daddy jostled down the two tracks in his old blue pick-up and let the weights of crops and droughts and the price of cows and bank notes fall off his shoulders.  

I snapped a few pictures of the sun bathed mesquite trees, and headed back to my chores of the day.  I added one of the snapshots to blogger on my android phone app. with intentions of finishing the post on a computer later.  However, the pasture picture left without me and I deleted the post, but not before a few of you received it in an email.  Then I emailed the pictures to myself to try using them in a post written on the computer, but they are lost somewhere in the 10 feet between my phone and the computer.

For now, the pasture is in my memory and your imagination.  I pray pasture rest is your reality.  

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