Shalom

 

Sleet cuts the cold air, gusting in waves across the snowy field. The trees round the prayer window are a-flutter with hungry, noisy birds, jockeying for space on the swaying fat balls and bobbing seed tray.

I listen, I watch: grateful to be inside beside a roaring fire. Then I notice a bigger bird, still as a statue, perched high in the Norwegian maple. I thought it was a pigeon: maybe it’s a crow: I can’t find the binoculars!

He’s been stationary now for at least an hour, bobbing on a small branch. Occasionally he flutters a feather or two, but otherwise he is absolutely unmoving.

Be still and know that I am God.

Mine has been a week of turmoil, indecision, misunderstanding, obfuscation. I have been up, then down; decisive, then confused: ready to act, then drawn to wait.

Be still and know that I am God.

God is faithful, full of grace and truth. May I rest in his peace, awaiting his word, his whisper, his touch, his hand on my life.

I hope that bird on the branch has not got his little claws frozen to the bark. I hope he is not too sick to fly, to find a place of greater shelter from the wintry weather.

I depend on God to keep my feet from being frozen onto a path which seems sensible, humanly speaking. May I be willing to follow the God who never leaves nor forsakes his loved ones, either onto a new path altogether, or continuing on the same path we are already on. Trusting in his love, mercy and care.

I was blessed this week by a video sent by Pastor Dan who visits Mom. He asked her for any advice she might have, as a centenarian, for younger people. In a heartbeat, she replied, ‘Love God. That is the most important thing. He sees things that we can’t see.’

What a blessing she is. No wonder God is preserving her life. She is like Job. She has lost so much, yet she hasn’t lost sight of her Lord. She is still letting the light inside her beam out into the darkness.

Thanksgiving week, and I have so much gratitude rising within me.

Shalom.