First week of August: It’s hard to be mad at the grass growing in the flower beds when theres a hummingbird sipping on the blue salvia and a bluebird on tbe clothesline pole. Finches are flitting through the blackeyed susans, and a bobwhite calls from the fields. Too much good to dwell on the ungood.
I turn 65 this month, seems like I should be saying that about my parents, not me. But the year of birth verifies it. Its really me. Sitting here on the patio as the sun finds a place to rest, I am overwhelmed with God’s grace. I’ve done nothing to deserve this peace.
Jesus said He gives us peace. Not as the world gives, does He give. And it IS a whole different peace. Though several circumstances could be rewritten if my world were ideal, its that peace that passes all understanding that comes with being in Christ, in spite of the less than idealic. The hummingbird can’t receive life sustenance by being nearby the salvia and feeders, admiring them, talking about them; but must contact that necter, get into it. Well, neither can we receive the peace and grace of Christ”s without contacting Him thru His life giving blood. On the outside looking in just isn’t where He wants us to be. I hear Him beckoning, “Come nearer to me, lean in, feel the peace and protection I promised when you became my child”. Age does not scare me.