Sunlight blazed from the summer sky filling the earth with heaven’s light. Blue and I walked along our country road — Blue sniffing out critters, me whispering prayers and finding refuge beneath my Father’s wing.
The Spirit of God made His Presence known all about me as the gentle breeze whispered through the pines.
Bless her heart. She was a haggard little thing. Feathers were askew, falling out, barely hanging on. Molting? Maybe. I’m not sure. What I am sure of is how she spoke to me this morning. My family had endured a direct and deadly hit from the enemy that nearly destroyed us. I could relate to this wren’s haggard appearance.
“The voice of the Spirit is as gentle as a zephyr, so gentle that unless you are living in perfect communion with God, you never hear it. The checks of the Spirit come in the most extraordinary gentle way, and if you are not sensitive enough to detect His voice you will quench it, and your personal spiritual life will be impaired. His checks always come as a still small voice, so small that no one but the disciple notices them.” ~ Oswald Chambers
From the corner of my eye I saw a flash of rich, intense sapphire blue. It was an indigo bunting! His gorgeous blue feathers glistened in the sunlight, reflecting the radiance of His Creator.
As I often do, I turned my thoughts toward the Lord while I pondered this marvelous bird … waiting … listening to see if the Lord had a lesson for me.
Hope lives in the scraggly branches reaching toward the winter blue sky. Skeletons of life waiting. Knowing. Knowing that come spring, life will begin anew.
Night had fallen — in the hearts of men, across the face of the earth.
Out of the cold struggle of darkness came a warm and radiant Light. The embodiment of Almighty God. Immanuel. God with us.
The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside the still waters.
He leads me in paths of righteousness.
He leads me in the ways of peace.
But sometimes …
My mind was on hope as the sun rose above the mountain ridge.
The morning dew lay heavy upon the grass, glistening drops of refreshment clinging to each blade. In each tiny globe of moisture, the light of a new day reflected like glitter scattered across the field.
He was so tiny. All six legs moved in synch as his jaws struggled to carry the beetle delicacy across the porch, down the steps, through the dense foliage of an uncut lawn, and into his ant hill where family and friends awaited.
An ant. A tiny, red ant.
I wonder if he realized how outsized he was by the ugly black beetle.
My index finger pressed against the power button. My head plopped back finding comfort in the sofa cushion as I sought a few moments of relaxation.
The TV came to life. Breaking News lit up the screen causing me to sit upright as my jaw dropped in horror. America had suffered another mass shooting. How could this be? How can the darkness of evil be oozing across our land at such a rapid rate? How do we wrap our minds around the terror that is gripping the world?