After coming home from Singapore, I had to attack my garden. It had been unattended for over three months, and it had a jungle aspect about it. One redeeming feature was that the rhubarb patch, which had not really flourished for a number of years, now offered a number of pickings for dessert.

There were other things that claimed my attention, particularly the mint that was hedge high, and spread along a border, and so had to be dug up and dumped. Of course, the lawns were in a bad condition, and weed and feed needed applying after cutting. After a toiling couple of days, I settled down one evening to write, but I could not find my best glasses anywhere. House searched, steps retraced, but to no avail.

A week later, I went to pick some rhubarb, my boots squashing down the weeds. I picked, then I turned, something glinted, bending, - Eureka! My glasses. The same sensation of wonder filled me just as the woman who had lost her coin, and the shepherd who found his one missing sheep. We were lost, but Jesus found us, we were blind, and He gave us sight.