There is a profound peacefulness that holds the view from my kitchen window. As I stand here in the quiet of the morning, looking out at the world waking up, I see so much beauty. A simple photograph might not capture it all, but beneath the surface, there is an abundant, vibrant life. I watch the squirrels in their endless games of tag, chasing each other around and up and down the trees, while quiet bunnies graze across the green yard. The birds have grown brazen, flying directly to the window, expecting the peanuts Kevin always keeps on hand for them.

In every season, God’s provision is on display here. I love watching the rain fall over this grass—a quiet, sacred cleansing that washes away the dust and makes everything new again. Through it, God faithfully provides the water that keeps all thirst at bay, nourishing the soil and refreshing every creature that calls this place home.
Just beyond, strengthened by those rains, two new flowering trees are stretching their roots deep into the ground. When I look at them, I can already picture the future—imagining a birdbath nestled between them in the years to come. On the other side of the yard, a crepe myrtle sits like an old friend, while the storage shed stands nearby, holding the tools that keep everything looking nice.

This yard has worn many faces over the years. It has been a playground where my grandchildren and their friends brought the space to life. I can still hear the echoes of laughter floating through the air, alongside the splashing water of mini pools on hot summer days.
When I look out today, I see over twenty years of memories layered across the grass. To anyone else, this view might look incredibly simple—just a quiet patch of green and some trees. But it is anything but simple.

Not all of those memories were easy, but God has been faithfully present among them all. It was in this very backyard that my husband died, and where God miraculously sent him back, his purpose on earth not yet fulfilled—but that is a sacred story for another time.

From the heartbreak to the healing, this ground has held it all. Today, a nice porch sits back there, complete with comfortable chairs waiting for the next time family and friends gather to fill the air with laughter. Every tree, every echo of the past, and every trial we survived speaks to the same truth: God has been in this backyard all along. And as I stand at my window this morning, watching those new trees stretch their roots, I don’t just see a beautiful history—I see the promise of a beautiful tomorrow.