Thursday, September 30, 2010

Almost Invisible

Fall has finally come to south Louisiana. The days of upper ninety-degree blistering heat have turned into breezy seventy degree afternoons. Each morning this week, I have opened windows, trying to bring that autumn smell indoors. But still, its coolness only teases me, beckoning me away from dishes, laundry, and mopping into the beautiful fullness of fall only available out the front door.

I doubt a single person in our area has missed the twenty degree drop in temperature. "Big" eye-popping developments like this--we notice. They assault all the senses, making sure we don't miss them.

Yet, while joy can be found in the big, it's more often available in the virtually imperceptible instances that show God's hands criss-crossing throughout the universe as he weaves the strands of time together.

It all started after several big rains--pond-sized mud holes grew overnight in some low areas near the kids' "playground." Although we never saw the eggs, in no time at all, two mud holes were zipping with tadpoles.

That was early September. Then, the rains ceased. And the puddles started shrinking.

I have no problem with dead baby frogs. To me, lots of little frogs mean snakes to munch them. So, I prepared to enjoy the tadpoles for a few days and then move on with another science lesson.

Wyatt, however, had other plans. This crafty critter told me that "God doesn't want the animals to die"...and I'm pretty sure he taught Amelia to squeal "fish" each time she went outdoors to play. Then, he came up with a plan to "water" the frogs.

And that's just what we've done the past few weeks. Crazy as it may sound (even to this mama), I've succumbed to three-year-old logic and lugged cart-loads of water to the "hole" in my yard, sustaining life where there would be none had nature taken its course.
To his credit, Wyatt did have to make a difficult choice--I told him mommy couldn't water both pools of tadpoles. One of them had to die. And so, he chose. A few days later, the unwatered ground reclaimed the extra water, and I noted the flies atop a circle of flat, dead ovals clumped together.

Our other tadpoles, though, are thriving. Had I known it would take eleven weeks from eggs being laid to a tail-free, fully-developed, hopping frog, I might have said "no" to Wyatt's pleas.

Now, I'm glad I said "yes" instead of "no." I admit I'm rather enjoying see the Creator continually create the intricacies of our world.

The "big" news at our house is actually "little" news. If you look really, really closely at the center tadpole in the picture, you can see them--tiny frog legs sprouting in front of the tail.
If you walked into my yard, you would most likely never see these wonders. But the small, the almost-invisible--that's where God is.

He is in the creation of each tiny frog leg.

He is in the camouflaged invisibility of each walking stick.
And He is in the love each little girl has for her daddy.Look for Him in the small, the out-of-the-ordinary. And you will find Him.


  1. I love this picture of Amelia and Doug's shoes!! Cute, cute, cute :)

  2. This story is another heart warmer... and the value that the experience has for your children. So tender hearted is your Wyatt!... It looks like he is a shepherd in the making. So full of love and kindness.

    You have raised him well, Jennifer.

    Loved the photos, too.


  3. Sounds like Wyatt has a good grasp on the creation process. Your kids are so blessed to have you! You could write a whole book on these kinds of lessons, I can picture it!