The aroma of freshly cut grass permeated the Saturday morning air. I was about to turn ten years old, and had finally convinced my dad that I was old enough and responsible enough to mow.

After a series of lessons about every aspect of our riding mower, the fuel, cutting the lawn, edging and more – and a brief period of apprenticeship under my dad’s loving and watchful eye – he disappeared into the garage and left me happily captaining my cutting craft back and forth across our nearly one-acre, mostly treeless lawn.

Before long, I made one necessary observational sweep of the whole yard, along with several completely unnecessary and purely recreational sweeps, then parked in the driveway and turned the power switch to “Off,” which signaled to my dad the completion of my mission.

He walked out of the garage and down the driveway to meet me as I climbed proudly off the mower.

Then, we knelt together to inspect my work from a ground’s eye view.

I was pleased with myself, and expecting praise. I loved my dad.  He was encouraging, instructive, and one of the most amazing servants I have ever known.

“You missed one.”

Yep. Right there in the middle of yard, one offending blade towered over the rest.

My heart fell. I had just successfully trimmed approximately 500 million blades of grass to a uniform length, and my dad’s initial response was to point out the single stalk I missed.

We walked over to it, looked at it together, and then he plucked it out of the ground, and that was that. The job was done. And from that moment on, my dad trusted me with the yard mowing chore that was rightfully mine – I had earned it with a near perfect performance.

I’ve thought about that experience over the years, and wondered if God feels that way sometimes. He provides for us an entire specialized world of sunshine, air, water, fire, plants and animals. He bestows us with talents, family, friends, and myriad opportunities for our good and for His pleasure. Day after day, year after year, He pours millions of blessings into our lives.

Then, one day, when something we don’t like happens, we accuse God of not caring about us, of failing, of lacking power or ability or concern, or of not even existing.

We accuse Him of missing one.

Even though we know we live in fallen world, we know that this life includes trouble and sickness and pain and disappointment, and that all are appointed to die, we somehow feel slighted when these things – or any unpleasurable thing – enters our realm of personal space or relational experience.

But, even in death, does God not keep His promise? Did not Jesus affirm that in this world we will have trouble? In the shame of nakedness, the pain of childbirth, the toil of provision, and the myriad consequences of sin, are not these things promised as surely as the hope of resurrection to eternal life to those who truly believe in the Lord Jesus Christ?

Indeed, God has NOT missed one, but perhaps – in our zeal to hone in on something that sticks out – we have missed the overwhelming joy of the daily, routine, thousands upon thousands of blessings God has granted.

We have taken, and taken for granted, and our response is one of complaint. We point out what we perceive to be wrong, instead of what God allows in a just universe that is currently beset with affliction until the time He has set for the destruction of all that is evil and restoration of all that is good. Perhaps then, when you next enjoy the aroma of fresh cut grass, you will bow for a moment to scan the work of God in your life – not with an eye for complaint that leads to wearisome companionship – but for rejoicing and praise in all things, that God might be glorified, your companions might be sanctified, and you might be satisfied with your lot . . . all 500 million blades of it.

Originally published in Meat and Potatoes for the Soul (2013).