Bluest Feather

Yesterday was quiet, it was Winter.

Intermittently gloomy, cold, dark and wet.

We walked just a short way and a solitary bluebird, older, I decided because of  size ,followed us along.

The sun returned with glorious abundance now.

How can we not notice? How can we not believe?

How can we suppose we know anything, really with certainty other than God?

Shall the potter be regarded as the clay, that the thing made should say of it’s maker, He did not make me?

Isaiah 29:16

Morning Prayer, jotted freely

Good morning, God, thank you for this day!

For sleep, sunshine, Scrabble, food,warmth, loud laughter with the ones I love, and for words. Thank you for your words, my words you allow me to conjure. May I go into this day, joyfully open to your bending of me and your making me what you’ve known so long as good, purposed and sufficient.

May I lean more closer in, to that place of grace, of assurance, of trust in the story that has more chapters to be written. May I believe you more.

Amen.