Blessed are the poor in spirit for they know the kingdom of heaven.
As I turned the last corner towards home, four deer leaped across the path in front of me, their brown bodies gleaming in the last rays of sunlight. I listened to them as they bounded away through the manzanitas.
“They know what it is to be blessed,” God said to me as I continued walking. “They live their lives guided by my Spirit. It is only man who strays from me, missing out on my Kingdom by seeking fame and fortune, exalting himself above others.”
“I want to live my life guided by you. How do I do that?” I asked as the path grew darker. I reached out for God’s hand to help me as my steps became harder to discern in the fading light.
“This is a good start,” God said. ” Always reach for me, and rely on me, not on yourself.”
My footsteps startled a covey of quail resting in a tall oak. They rose all at once and flew on the breath of God, towards the meadow. I watched them until I could no longer make them out in the inky sky. “I’ll let go and rely on you as the animals do,” I said, and gripped His hand more tightly.
Slowly, surely, God led me back home, back to His heart, back to where He’s always been, back to where He will always be.