It’s time. I miss it! I miss writing. My writing definitely comes through in waves and phases and sometimes it’s a lot of words and a lot of articles and other times I put the “pen” down for a while and live spontaneously.

Today is Thursday and that means it’s time to write. Time to reflect and be with God and sing and play guitar. I’ll walk and pray and nap and gather my thoughts.

Hope and pray and plan. Lots of prayer. Lots of bringing myself before Him in His presence.

Mmm. The sunlight is coming through the trees out there and all the flowers and trees and birds and frogs and butterflies are yawning and starting to stir. They’re making preparations for the day and for the rest of the week and starting the daily grind.

How beautiful is His creation.

Lord God, Your art is … Unfathomable. How intricate, how delicate. How unique and mesmerizing. What life, what beauty.

Lord your power is endless.

Your abilities are limitless.

Your timing is perfect.

Your creatures are marvelous.

Every creature breathing and moving and working and preparing and searching and finding. Gaining and achieving. Growing and pruning and conforming and transforming.

Your breath in the lungs of every creature.

Your spirit in the beat of every heart.

Your fingerprint on the top of every head, on the bottom of every foot, on every rock and tree and body of water and mountain top.

Your hand guiding every breeze, controlling every drop of rain, orchestrating every natural process to work together as part of your plan. To change the world. To point to Yourself.

O Gracious God, what praise you deserve!!!! How great and holy you are. Amazing are your works; I know that full well, only by looking at your creation.

Go outside people. Even if you live in the city. Find beauty in a hanging plant, or a blade of grass. We can grow things but we can’t create them from nothing.

Even if you live in the country and you’ve stared across the same road 1,000 times. Go outside and look again, and see God’s hand. Find His mercy in the shade of the trees on a hot summer day. How perfectly He designed them to bow out in a beautiful arc of glory and provide fruit, shade, refuge.

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“You’re not a tree” a lady said to me yesterday, as I thanked her for telling her story of her and her family moving all over the globe for her husband’s job in the air force. I told her I didn’t want to necessarily root myself down and feel inclined to stay in one place. She said I didn’t have to.

“You’re not a tree.”

K I’m just gonna post this. More later. <3

xxx

V