Everything His

That tree is mine’


I found it.

I watered it.

I nurtured it.

I pruned it.

I cared for it by prepping it for winter

It is on my land

That tree is mine.

However,

The sun,

The nutrients,

The water,

The photosynthesis process,

The myriad of biological processes,

That tree is, mine?

I woke

I worked

I bought seed

I planted

Watered

Watched

I ate

I grew

I cognate

I concluded

And yet

Did I?

Apart from Him?

In all the process it takes for one day, one day for me to experience an behold, what have I to do with it?. No, all is His.

Everything

Every thistle

Thorn

Great oak,

Ant.

Every natural process

Every biological wonder

His

And me,

I am dust.

His dust,

And He finds value in me,

He wants to be with me,

Talk with me,

Listen to me,

Watch me,

Guide me.

And what does he want from me?

Acknowledgment.

That,

All is His

Not mine.

His

Simply

Profoundly

Inexplicably

His.

And yet it makes sense,

Perfectly.

I did nothing, to create the power of the sun, the rotation of the earth, its distance from, perfect, its water, land, mass, perfect..

It is all His.

Resting in his hand

With my best interest in mind.

I am dust, it is where I came from and where I will go, and yet with soul I can point,

To Him.

Will I?

Because he deserves it,

And so much more.

Everything.

His.