Author: Nan Jones

The morning dew lay heavy upon the grass, glistening drops of refreshment clinging to each blade. In each tiny globe of moisture, the light of a new day reflected like glitter scattered across the field.

I thought of how the dew was formed — the warm air rising from the earth clashing with the cooler air of descending darkness.

I thought of the juxtaposition of one season to another — the warmth of summer wrestling with the chill of fall much like the dark of night softens to morning light.

And I thought of God’s grace — His mercies new every morning, especially it seems, in the clash of life’s seasons, the juxtapositions that challenge our faith.