Sometimes after
we get caught by storms, dropped off in the parking lot, changed into dry clothes, the sun comes out. Right then. And really, I'm not kidding. It's beautiful, warm, hot, enticing. But instead of going back out to the water, we go to the mansion next door. And first notice God's little house, just across the way from the mansion built for groups of people to occupy at one time.
We enjoy the water made beautiful by blue dye, and reflect that we like to drink only the clear water of life. We can't wait to see that pure river of water of life proceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb.
We read the sign, and find that the mansion really was more like a glorified dorm for religious adults, and then later a prison. Or was that the other building down the hill? Either way, it didn't seem quite so dreamy after that. Like some of those things we think are really amazingly wonderful that turn out to be amazingly not-so-wonderful.
Still, it was beautiful, and we were glad they planted flowers to grow next to the pond.
And made a cute little gate that even when it was shut made us want to enter in. And I wonder, since I like this little gate so much, how I will like the big, grand gates made of one pearl each instead of humble wrought iron. Can you even imagine them? Don't you want to see them?
Wouldn't it be worth traveling a straight and narrow path, rather than this curvy, adorable one, just to see those pearly gates?
Here on this earth, even mansions of luxury have places of humble use. Places that look pleasant on the outside, with their cheerful red paint, but that probably really stink on the inside. I hope my heart isn't like that. But if it is, my prayer is "Fix me, Jesus."
When you visit mansions, sometimes there's a moment that tells you how classy your mother really is, and how skilled is her eye for beauty. This time, that was when I saw their potted flowers, planted just like my mother likes to plant hers. With the spikey things in the middle.
If I lived in a mansion, I might just choose a cozy little corner to call my own, like this nook at the top, overlooking the grounds. And then I would just hope the rest of the mansion was filled with people I love.
I'm glad they made the windows big. Big enough to see outside, and to let in the light. I pray my heart is also big and open enough to let in the light from the Word of God, which is the Lamp for my feet, and the Light to my path.
Something tells me these turkeys were just as happy living out in the grassy field as they would have been living in the mansion. I hope I'm content where I'm placed, too, strengthened by Christ.
