…which I tend to think of as mine and here for me. An overlooked servant, I ignore it, or curse it when it’s not there, or too much there. Or bless when the wind bites but it gives hope. Or wish on when it seems so cold and distant over a frozen tundra. And thanks for the moon, another gift just to me, to add to the magic of a garden of stars for an enchanting night.
Always there, whether seen or unseen, the sun and moon do Your bidding whether I like the day’s orders or not. They are Your created beings to rule the day and the night that will go on with or without me and have since before the dust that became Eve.
And though I fuss and cuss and pout and groan, and sing and dance and delight and swim and sled and sleep and eat and work with little thought to the perfectly spaced, massive ball of consuming fire above that is the reason I can live at all, I thank You now for its example, daily, of Your hope and faithfulness and sovereign plan which I can neither thwart nor hurry. I need that reminder.
And though the scientists tell me this sun will burn out and turn cold like it feels on an Alaskan January day, foreign and impotent, that is far beyond my ability to be concerned about. I can be content with that.
And so, thank You.
***In the spirit of Brian Doyle’s “Book of Uncommon Prayer” and with continuing praise to the Creator, Amen.
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