Geese on the wing called to me this morning, urging me to get out of bed. The soft light spilling into my room was all the clock I needed—time to start my day. The feral cats were probably waiting at my kitchen door, noses pressed to the panes, wanting me to feed them. The geese circled the cottage, calling again and again. I threw back the blankets and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. “It’s cold this morning, God,” I said, a shiver running through me.
“It’s winter,” God said, and smiled at me.
I opened the curtains to see a dozen birds vying for position on the feeders. Off beyond the hedgerow, a rabbit hopped lazily in the early sun. “I’ll make us a fire,” I said, “right after I feed the kitties.”
“That would be lovely,” God replied.
“I’d like to spend some time with you this morning,” I said.
“I’d like that,” God said, and smiled again.
After I fed the cats, we sat by the fire and I thanked God for my many blessings and told Him how much I loved Him. I could barely hear the sound of my voice over the beating of His happy heart, its rhythm filling my own with peace.
~God will watch over your life.
All night the wind lashed at my little cottage. I laid awake in the small hours, listening to the walls groan with each gust. I knew sleep would not find me until the storm had spent its fury. Until then, I hoped the fire in the stove would keep the cold at bay. I watched the orange flames dance behind the glass across the room, grateful for their company.
“Are you afraid?” God asked as another gust shook the windows in their panes.
“Mostly feeling alone,” I replied honestly.
“I’ll keep you company,” He said and sat down in the wicker chair at the foot of my bed. The fire reflected off His face, filling the room with a heavenly glow.
“The storm will pass,” God said softly. “Go on and go to sleep. I’ll keep watch over you.”
I closed my eyes, my tired bones reaching out for the comfort of slumber, even as the wind howled. Sometime after dawn, I woke to the sound of silence outside, and to God’s sentinel heart beating at the foot of my bed. The night’s fire now ash and embers, but His love keeping me warm.
God is light. In him, there is no darkness.
~1 John 1:5
The day was long, and I was tired and tense, full of negativity. “God, I need your help to overcome my bad mood,” I said.
“Certainly,” God answered. “Come, sit with me for a while.” I sat down next to Him on my couch and waited for Him to speak again. But He remained silent.
“Aren’t you going to tell me what to do?”
“Shhh. Just listen,” He replied.
“But you aren’t saying anything.”
“Listen with your heart,” He instructed.
I sat next to Him in the silence and after a few minutes, my heart heard His heart. My heart heard His love. My mind settled down, and my body relaxed.
“Come to me whenever you are not at peace,” God said gently, and put His arm around me. I leaned my head on His shoulder, bathed in His light. I sat there for a long time, at peace.
Don’t stop the children from coming to me because the Kingdom of God belongs to them.
A brown leaf, crumpled and worn, caught the eye of my granddaughter, Bella. She bent down and lovingly picked it up and cradled it in her hands. “Look, Grandma!” she exclaimed, holding her hands out for me to see her treasure.
“Ohhh, that’s a lovely leaf,” I responded. She nodded and walked on a little bit in front of me, head down, looking for more delights nestled in the park’s grass.
“I want to show Mommy and Daddy my leaf,” She said as she stepped back closer to me. She tenderly placed it in the empty stroller and smiled at me, her eyes bright and shining.
“Dear God, I want Bella’s ability to see the beauty in a dry, dead leaf—the beauty of your creation—the beauty of you,” I said.
God knelt down next to Bella and opened His arms wide and hugged her. He looked up at me and smiled. “You can have what she has if you love as she does.”
“Home, Grandma,” Bella said, her arms above her head asking me to pick her up and put her in the stroller.
As I pushed her the blocks toward home, I pondered God’s words. The simple love of a child is what we need. I took my right hand off the stroller and reached out and took God’s hand. The three of us journeyed the rest of the way, our hearts so connected that they felt like one.
A single star was all that remained in the soft blue of the morning sky. Westward, a lone contrail revealed the passing of an airplane. Where were those people going so early in the morning, I wondered. Home for the holidays? A darkness filled my heart as I laid wood in the fireplace to chase off the night’s chill.
“Your children will arrive soon,” God reminded me as I struck a match. “But your melancholy isn’t about people.” He put His hand on my shoulder.
“It’s the fear that I’ll never succeed. That it will always be just beyond my grasp,” I replied. The kindling caught and spread the flames.
“What do you want success to look like, Sparrow?” God asked.
“More money in the bank. I’m tired of financial worry.”
“Is that all?”
“No. I worry if my work matters; if it really makes a difference,” I confessed. The logs caught fire and suddenly the stove glowed a bright orange.
“Everything in its time,” God said gently and patted my back. “My love that you share grows, just as the fire you started from a single spark now blazes. Don’t lose faith. Even if your words only touch one person today, that is one person more who knows my love, and that is a success.”
God put His arm around me and I rested my head on His shoulder. We stood in front of the fire warming ourselves as the sun came up; the darkness in my heart now replaced with His Light.
God rejoices over us with singing.
The lonesome cries of the Canadian geese circling overhead woke me from my slumber. Dawn’s first light peeked into my windows and I snuggled under the warmth of the blankets. It was a cold morning. Tempted to drift back to sleep, I closed my eyes. A beautiful song then filled the room. I opened my eyes. “Is that you God?”
“Yes,” God answered me.
“Why are you singing this early in the morning?” I asked.
“I’m rejoicing over you,” God said gently.
“Rejoicing? What did I do to deserve that?”
“You didn’t do anything. I’m just delighted that you are mine,” He said, and returned to His singing.
I could scarcely take that in. The great I Am rejoicing over me! The geese circled back and joined their voices with God’s as the sun warmed the room. I could think of nothing better to do than to share this glorious feeling, this love from God with you. Listen. He is singing over you, too.