Survival

Everything is blending into a white mist as the snow drifts out of leaden skies onto grey-green fields. 

The birds hop hopefully round the empty bird feeders, but I can’t get the peanut feeder open to refill it! Their lives may depend on a few peanuts and I can’t get it open.

Will have to pop out and buy another container. Can’t wait til someone returns and opens it for me. 

 The fat pheasant can probably survive but not so sure about those tiny birds. A fine line between survival and death I would imagine.

So important to fill up every morning with the good things of God, so that when we brush up against the spiritually starving, there is something nourishing in us for them to feed on. Otherwise they’ll go look elsewhere and may fill up on junk spirituality.