Different, Yet a comrade, Because of God’s Gift of Praise

My song rang out loud and clear as I walked along the dirt road rambling across the mountain ridge. Sunlight warmed my shoulders. Praise warmed my heart.

As I sang, I noticed the song of a bluebird, an unlikely comrade on my walk, perched on a limb of the oak butted up against the road. I stopped to admire him.

When I stopped singing, he stopped singing. When I sang a note, he sang a note.

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I recognize Christ in His Eyes Set Against His Ebony Skin

Passion flowed from his lips. Anguish. Desperation. Desire to evoke change.

Behind him throngs of multi-colored skin shouted. Some cried. Some clung to each other for courage as the amber glow of flames lit up the night sky while blasts of tear gas exploded and the harsh pops of firecrackers sprinkled more anger in the darkness of the city streets.

But this young man — he touched my heart.

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Neglected Geranium, Crusty Soil, and Life Restored

My geranium sat neglected. Difficult life circumstances had taken priority and now the once lush and bountiful geranium looked … sad. Yellowed leaves edged in crumbly brown. Flowers, once plentiful, now barely raised their heads in search of their missing container-mates.

The soil had become crusty. Hard. Void of life-sustaining nutrients.

Much like a child of God finding herself in a desert wilderness at the base of the mountain, rather than soaring from its peak.

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