The compassion for God’s creation lingers as part of the legacy of St. Francis* of Assisi. In fact, a crumbling statue of St. Francis embracing a small bird graces my garden and reminds me of my own increasing sensitivities to God’s creation.
All in Creation
The compassion for God’s creation lingers as part of the legacy of St. Francis* of Assisi. In fact, a crumbling statue of St. Francis embracing a small bird graces my garden and reminds me of my own increasing sensitivities to God’s creation.
As I sorted boxes of my children’s artwork, I admired how their childhood imaginations defied rules of perspective and laws of nature. Time has since redirected their imaginations from free-form artwork to the demanding issues of adult problem-solving. However, a quote by Oswald Chamber recently challenged me to rekindle my own child-like imagination:
One night awake at 2 a.m., as I lay in bed, I tried to go back to sleep. I could hear a little bird chirping outside my bedroom window. I thought you cannot sleep either.
But, for that instant, I could rest in the quiet beauty when all was well. I must not miss those moments, for they are rare among the rush of the world. They exist as God’s good gifts, like His Son, His Salvation, His grace, His love, and His ever-present counselor, His Holy Spirit.
I walked through the pasture attempting to solve a mystery, an unusually large tangle of feathers hanging from the fence. However, upon closer examination, I gasped to see two large eyes from within the tangle staring directly into mine.
Our award-winning Short Leaf Pine tree recently died. It ranked fourth in size in the great state of Texas. The trunk measured thirteen feet in circumference. I often wondered why it lived so long and grew so big. Who planted it? Was it the product of a seed carried by the wind? Did a squirrel shredding a pine cone release the seed that began its life?
Groggy and moving slowly, I open the back door to let our dogs out. It’s a bright, spring morning—green grass, warm sun accompanied by a light breeze, flowers sprouting (I feel compelled to mention the weeds I’ve looked at every morning this week and failed to pull). This is a favorite time for so many people! Even from Solomon, we hear praise that winter is past (Song of Solomon 2:11).
Ah yes, “the glories of His righteousness and wonders of His love!” Joy to the world! That God would speak to us and share His glory with us through the Son—a cause for celebration indeed. But hold on; that’s not all. I am mesmerized by the detail in these first verses of Hebrews as the author paints the Christ in technicolor for his readers.
I remember my father saying, “I love a “buttermilk sky” while admiring a scenic view of puffy little clouds. By fourth grade, I’d discovered there was no official “buttermilk sky" cloud formation, only cumulus, stratus, cirrus and multiple variations based on combinations and altitudes.