Sunday With the Sparrows

Here it is ... the cold of January. Slushy paths. Gloves and hat, if I'm smart. And delightful walks in this testing season. I must admit that I don't have the resistance to cold which I enjoyed in former years.

I can remember times when I needed to get alone over some problem and to try to assimilate the soothing presence of God.

Invariably He would direct me to the birds. Little sparrows huddled in some leafless bush. Feathers all fluffed out for insulation. Hopping to ground for a morsel and then back to the branches. Seldom alone, but chirping in chorus.

It was as if He whispered to me, "I only expect them to do what they are built to do. I will not deprive them of food or light or shelter. Theirs is but to search. Mine is to carry and protect, and to see through to spring."

My problems shrank. I also felt warmer.


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