Monday, Monday. A blustery wind disturbs the bare branches
of the larch tree and whips a few clouds across the watery blue sky. The sun is
out – and then it’s hidden. Something draws my eyes to the Hill of Fare, which
sits to the northwest of the house, and there, brilliant and strong, is a
rainbow. It is rising from the paintball games premises, and its glow is echoed
so that I see not one, but two rainbows.
Monday carries connotations of hard graft, of the end of the
freedom and fun of a weekend. But in the midst of the heaviness that can drag
down a Monday is the promise of goodness, the promise of light, the promise of
a loving God who never gives up on me, and never lets me down.
He is the God who knows me intimately, and loves me anyway.
He is the God who believes in me, even when I struggle to believe in myself. He
is the God who sacrificed himself so that I might be saved.
Monday is a good day to remember all of that, and be
thankful. I am full of gratitude today. I was blessed to see all of my kids and
all of my grandkids over this past week. I was blessed to ‘visit’ my mother on
a Skype call and watch her enjoy the interaction with a couple of her great
grandchildren. I am thankful that in a troubled world, there are moments of
heart-warming blessing.
God stretches his rainbow of promise over us all today.
I put up our Thanksgiving branch on the weekend, and could
have it filled with leaves of gratitude in no time at all.
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