I wake to the rushing waters of our little creek far below my upstairs picture window. Birds chirp good morning and roosters let us know it's time to be up. The sun is rising through the trees surrounding our home. "Thank you, Jesus, for another beautiful day." I say. I am in constant awe of my God's unfailing love and grace. Winter passes and Spring shoots forward.
The golden sunlight shine through morning fog is a sight to behold. It's almost as lovely as the summer night sky of stars. I walk around our little nook of the woods and the baby cow notices me. He comes over to say hello, just barely missing a taste of my camera. The chickens are scattered, busily hunting their food. The cats run through my legs, excited for the morning.
Winter is dying off. That's sort of an oxymoron since winter is a season of when things die, but when Spring comes and birds begin to sing again and the days get longer and we dig our hands in the soil Winter itself dies off. And it is beautiful. Watching the season turn and time pass. It seems like yesterday I was 16 and preparing for a trek around the world, but now that time has long passed.
The sun creeping in is my favoritest thing. And yes I can use a grammatically bad word because it describes the loveliness of it so much better. I like Anne Shirley kind of words. She makes me smile. "Pretty? Oh, pretty doesn’t seem the right word to use. Nor beautiful, either. They don’t go far enough. Oh, it was wonderful—wonderful. It’s the first thing I ever saw that couldn’t be improved upon by imagination. It just satisfies me here”—she put one hand on her breast—”it made a queer funny ache and yet it was a pleasant ache. Did you ever have an ache like that, Mr. Cuthbert?"
I walk into the barn and see the tools lined along the metal walls. A ladder to climb up the tree and build a fort, barrels of food for the animals to eat the whole winter long, pitchforks just waiting to be used in the Spring garden, and a rope hanging for good measure. The barn is where there's a hammock to sit in and watch Dad milk the cow and a bunny rabbit to bring the carrot scraps too. Hay lines the floors and the loft is filled with straw. The chickens come and go and it smells like "country."
I see this life the Lord has given me and all I can do is praise Him. Maybe I want to be in another part of the world with other people doing other things, but He wants me in here. And I know it's because He loves me. My life is far from perfect and I am far from perfect, but I strive to be like Him - my Savior; selfless and compassionate. Soli Deo Gloria! And welcome, Spring. I hope you'll stay a while.