Sharon Randall

I’ve had some embarrassingly bad ideas in my time. More than my share. But lately I’ve been on a roll with good ideas that just keep getting better.

Actually, I could include my marriage in that. It, too, is a good idea that keeps getting better. But this morning my husband made an ill-advised remark about my hair, and I’m in no mood to sing his praises.

Never mind what the remark was. OK, fine, I’ll tell you. He said my just-woke-up hair made me look like Rod Stewart.

For the record, I have no problem with Rod Stewart, or his hair. But it was not exactly the look I would hope for.

A lesser person might’ve been tempted to tell my husband to go take a good look at his own just-woke-up hair. But far be it from me ever to stoop to that.

Anyhow. About my good ideas.

We recently moved to a new place that’s half as big as our old one. Best of all, it has no stairs, which makes my knees a lot happier. But finding room to store stuff is a challenge.

Take, for example, all the things we like to keep for our grandkids to play with when they come over: The books and puzzles and colored pencils and paper and plastic dinosaurs and stuffed animals and games and, oh my goodness, the Legos.

My husband swears Legos is an acronym for Lethally Edged Gouging Objects. If you ever have the misfortune to step on one barefoot, you’ll understand why. We would much prefer to keep all that stuff off the floor and out of sight. But where?

I brilliantly decided to buy two storage benches that fit perfectly in front of two low windows in our living room. They hold all the kids’ stuff and (bonus!) provide extra seating.

Then, believe it or not, I came up with yet another good idea. We had planted in front of those windows a bunch of blooming plants that proved to be an all-you-can-eat buffet for deer.

After they were eaten to the ground, I did a little research and decided we should try purple salvia, which is both beautiful, and more important, is said to be deer resistant.

Two weeks later, the salvia is still blooming and, so far, it hasn’t even been nibbled.

Imagine our surprise to find that hummingbirds and bees and butterflies seem to love the salvia as much as we do.

I wish you could see them.

When our grandkids come to visit, I make them turn off their iPads and video games, and lie on their bellies on the benches with their noses pressed to the window panes to watch those winged creatures up close, without getting stung.

I want them to see the colors on the throats of the hummers and the hairs on the bodies of the bees and the patterns in the wings of the butterflies. I want them to be amazed at the way they gather pollen and nectar, and how hard they work to stay alive; how they trust their wings to carry them and seem entirely content just to be what they are.

I love seeing those little people, who so completely own my heart, take such delight in the wonders of Creation.

Sometimes, as I watch them watch what’s going on outside those windows, I find myself wondering if that is how God watches us, too?

Does he hold his face just inches from ours?

Does he smile at the light he sees shining in our eyes for a hummingbird or a child?

Does he scratch his head at how we worry, and how we try to protect our loved ones, even though we tell ourselves their safety is not up to us, and that he is watching over us all?

Does God delight in seeing us delight in his good ideas?

I hope so. I hope he delights in me the way I delight in birds and bees and grandbabes.

Even if I look like Rod Stewart.

(Sharon Randall can be reached at P.O. Box 416, Pacific Grove, Calif. 93950, or on her website: www.sharonrandall.com.)

Load comments