A swoosh of black and gray feathers darted from the apple tree to the birdhouse nailed to my grape arbor. The chickadee twitched with excitement as she crawled through the circular opening and back out again, exploring her new dwelling place.
From the perch she flew to another branch, hopped across two or three others and swooped back to the birdhouse, again twitching with hyperactivity.
And … repeat.
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An appropriate reflection of God’s faithfulness from last spring: our hope is among us, found only in Him …
I rounded the bend along the country road, my shoulders sagging beneath the heavy burdens of my heart. Hope was missing. Despair flourishing … my feet merely shuffled along. My thoughts were many — fears of an unknown future exploding within the darkened corners of my mind.
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Blue Ridge Mountains Christian Writers Conference
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