my soul in stillness waits.....

For some reason,dawn found me this morning on the porch doing my morning prayer.It was still grey,not even squirrels were at the feeder.The only sound was the early rising wren, whose shrill call pierced the air and made me smile. There is something so blessed about this time of day.I felt alone in the world and it felt good.

 This was a perfect place to read a book of meditations by Carlo Carretto, a Catholic lay person who ,at God's call ,left Italy and went out to the desert to live and serve the poor in the waste land of North Africa.Something he wrote stayed with me and I offer it to you:
"Is there any creature which does not speak to us of him?Which is not his photograph and symbol?Which is not an invitation from him?"

Pondering this can change a life.

We have three turkey neighbors that come every day to eat under the feeder.One is a huge Tom ,the other a smaller male and a female.When she is around,he struts and all his plumage is shooting out included that amazing brown fan of a tail.He doesn't eat, he just struts and I know he is letting her and the world know that he is protecting her.It is so obvious. God doesn't strut but I feel His protection.When I asked him why I am not an alcoholic like so many in my gene pool,his answer:"You have been protected" and I know this to be true.I feel it.

 The wrens who seem to enjoy living here are known for putting their nests in the strangest places.They always seem to be nesting,feeding young ,just busy little creatures.Caring ,feeding, nurturing and calling.Doing creation's work.

I recall seeing a snow covered limb moving one glorious February day in Georgia and knowing it was an angel telling me that she was with me in my enjoyment.Nothing else was moving in the stillness of the white woodland.

There is a dear church friend who is suffering from the effects of meningitis and is in a hospice.Are her eyes when I visit her not God's invitation?I now think of them this way.

You may say that this is all a stretch.Fair assessment.But I proffer this:what would a life or even a moment spent looking for the hand of God be like? Would it feel like wonder?