A few weeks ago we had one of those perfect spring evenings- slanted sunlight, bulbs in bloom, a hint of warmth, and the birds going nuts-o over it all. I was already out, husband managing bedtime, on my way to a big meeting. Suddenly I had a burning and convincing instinct to find a perch somewhere in that evening, to spend my time “off-duty” in prayer. I wouldn’t be missed at the meeting. I was sortof going for the wrong reasons, anyway.
I turned the car and ended up at our now-closed retreat house. The grounds were utterly “charged with the grandeur of God.” What a relief that I listened to the still small voice on this occasion.
I sat and observed and was arrested by the birdsong. I prayed and read. I sank into a deep interior place.
In an extraordinary moment it seemed as though the sun itself, swollen in its setting, was the eye of God, illuminating the scene and looking straight into my soul, there amidst the daffodils.
These were holy moments, gifted to me by our lavish God. I returned revived and refreshed. I am so grateful.
I doubt whether the sacred can be imparted through the low-quality video I took but you will at least see the illuminated daffs, hear those birds!, and notice the great buzz of the bee.
May you, very soon, have the grace to hear and turn and meet Him in the “dearest freshness deep down things” in your own corner of the world.