The greens of spring are exploding in St. Francis’s woods, bright and vibrant, shouting, “Life!”
The day is cool, but not cold. Warm, but not hot. I f I could bottle it and save it, I would.
Thank You for a gentle creek, for birds and bugs and bees and squirrels. I sit and know that You are near. Tears of joy and worship. Grateful.
W0rds are not enough, only incomplete phrases that are the hallmark of poetry, thoughts and impressions and colors and feelings. Rest and joy flood out order and structure.
Birds bring me to tears – their song didn’t have to be pleasant to our ears, yet their voice brings glory to God and joy to us. Call after different call, different tones and timbres, unconcerned about their future, simply living as they were created to live. Their being brings glory to God.
You can taste the goodness of God, feel it all around. Pure blues, daring greens, life springing up all around. Bless the Lord, o my soul. Drink in His beauty and rejoice in the Love that would give us a day like this.
These are days where I want to roll around in the ferns an in the creek, to absorb these woods. What more can Heaven have in store? What beauties are there beyond my imagination, colors I’ve never seen, perfect rest, uninterrupted presence of God? These woods are just a glimpse.