We set our eyes not on what we see but on what we cannot see. What we see will last only a short time, but what we cannot see will last forever. 2 Corinthians 4:18
God fills my senses in nature. In delicate, pastel, pastoral sunrises and blazing, crimson, violet sunsets. When I spy a blue heron staring serenely in the distance, unconcerned over my slow, silent smile as I stare in joyful delight. A field of orange, gray, black and white painted ladies fluttering like autumn leaves. White and pink cherry blossoms, newly decorating previously unadorned branches, wet with morning dew.
Mourning doves offering a morning greeting more delightful than café au lait. Beckoning me to wake and play and begin my day. The call of the blue jay, restless and angry that that some other feathered friend threatens to take his territory in the universe of birdland. Barking dogs and running streams; thunder and rain pelting my window pain.
The fresh smell of day after new rain; cold wind against my chapped skin; rain dripping down my back; snow on the tip of my tongue and eyelashes; the feel of the heat of the sun down to my core after a long, cold month of shivering inside layers of long-sleeve cotton shirts under woolen turtleneck sweaters.
Having absolute faith that God abides in me, loves me without condition, follows behind me ensuring that I stay on His path, faithfully provides for me when I ask and even when I don’t, protects me, gives me wisdom, and above all, forgives me when I am human. That is to say, when I sin, which I do on a daily basis, when I come to Him and tell Him, and repent and ask Him to take me under His wing again, He always does. I am His cygnet, His lamb, His disciple, His child, His clay. I am His, and even though I cannot see Him, there is no doubt in my mind that He is there.
