Everything is a gift. My life, from nothing, needed no plan to emerge. You, Lord, established my goings.
Clouds and rains hang in the sky, blocking the sun. What perfect days the birds must have! Ever they can rise above the grey.
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Can I see the clouds and their rain as their own gift? The crops need the water, the scorched grasses need the rest.
A way must be made across the fields to find fresh pasture for the flock. What gift is the weather? Grant, Lord, that I may know it.
Awakening after awakening.
– from the mountain
Consider:
Can I truly be awake to all this bounty?
Reading:
“Life is grace. Sleep is forgiveness. The night absolves. Darkness wipes the slate clean, not spotless to be sure, but clean enough for another day’s chalking.” — Frederick Buechner
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“Gratitude is not only the greatest of virtues, but the parent of all the others.” — Marcus Tullius Cicero
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“Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning.” — James 1:17 (KJV)
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