Sing to the Lord.
All afternoon God sang through the trees in the ravine just beyond the blackberry thickets. I sat in my rocker on the porch, listening to the sounds the branches made as they moved to His every breath. The birds, high atop the pines, joined them in perfect harmony.
“What a beautiful afternoon this is, God,” I said. “It’s a symphony.”
“I made it just for you,” He replied.
“Thank you,” I said. “I’m going to turn off my phone and be fully present with you.”
“Wonderful!” God answered.
“I’m not going to ask you for anything,” I promised. “I’m just going to enjoy you.”
“I am going to enjoy you, too!” God said, and resumed His singing.
I added my voice to the afternoon, singing hymns my mother had taught me when I was a child.
We sang together until the moon began its slow climb into the night sky. “I’ve got to cook dinner, God,” I said and rose and went into the cottage.
“I’ll help you,” He said, and came inside with me.