Today it’s hay bales standing in calm ranks on their new-mown fields.
It’s dogs frolicking in pairs in the ditches of the highways: a pair of tiny terriers, a pair of hounds, and — most improbably — a pair of Shih Tzus. The weather, apparently, brings out the joyous dogginess of all dogs.
It’s the breeze that made my swift walk through the sunshine a hint of heaven.
It’s a sliver of setting moon visible through night-blackened oak tree.
It’s the fresh remembrance of what God’s forgiveness means — what it required of Him — brought by trying to explain it to someone else.
It’s this good reminder, rediscovered today:
“If we consider the lives of the Saints, we see the strange paths along which they were driven by the Will to the accomplishment of their destiny: how unexpected and uncongenial were the ways in which they were used to bring the Kingdom in and do the Will of God: and how the heavenly Bread which they were given was given to make them strong for this destiny, and not because it tasted nice.” —Evelyn Underhill
It’s gratitude that He so often makes that bread both strengthening and sweet; that the ways are not always uncongenial, and that even in the strangest paths, I know that His goodness and mercy attend me all the days of my life, leading me to His house, where I shall dwell forever.
©2014 by Stacy Nott
Between Blue Rocks 
Amen.
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