I walked outside this morning with Lola at 7:15, the way I do every morning, and I noticed something that made me stop and stare.
Usually when I stare at something in my front yard it's a squirrel, and he is about to skedaddle up the tree to get away from Lola, or it's the gravel left in my yard by the water department last year, where I can't grow grass, or it's my mailbox that tilts to the left because I don't want to spend money on a new mailbox right now.
This was a thing of beauty, though, not a cause for irritation.
I stared at the dew glistening off of a beautiful spiderweb, spun between a large yucca plant and a holly tree. The intricacy of it took my breath away.
I wanted to take a photo of it but I knew my crappy phone camera wasn't up to the task. Unlike most people, I don't always feel compelled to take photos. My whole life isn't documented on Facebook or Instagram, and that's OK. I'm old-fashioned enough to think it's fine to rely on memory sometimes.
There was no spider in the large intricate web. I don't know where she went. Likely resting after the exertions of creating something so exquisite.
I hope she catches a lot of insects in her web. Insects like to bite me the moment I walk outside my door -- probably because I am so sweet. [Don't laugh, y'all..]
I see God in every detail of everything in the natural world. I plant flowers everywhere, every spring, because their beauty lightens my heart, their nectar feeds the bees, and their colors give pleasure to my mother. She rarely goes outside, but she loves to see flowers from the window.
The web I saw this morning was a great reminder of many things, but primarily I think I saw it because despite the fact that I slept poorly last night, and there are many issues weighing on my heart, I am surrounded by beauty every time I step outside. God reminds me of his presence every day, in many many ways.
We are all part of a web spun by God -- intricate, delicate, and yet dealing in life and death.
photo by Mark Embry
