Today I called a friend to see if she wanted to go blueberry picking with me. There is a special patch, which used to be an actual blueberry farm, but the owners turned it over to the county and now it is a free for the picking patch. (Ephraim claims it is one of Holland's best kept secrets. Shhhh!) That also means it is very overgrown, and you have to fight the raspberry prickers and mosquitoes to get to the blueberries. But it is so worth it!! The berries are still abundant and delicious.
Anyway...my friend didn't get back to me and I realized that after all that has been going on this summer, I really needed to go pick berries with just God. I needed alone time with Him.
There were birds that came to visit me. They sat on the tops of the bushes watching me pick their berries. A robin, a thrush and a female oriole flew back and forth, in and out. But there were lots of other birds that I could hear as they sang, and called, rustled in the bushes and long grass. It was quite the symphony of bird carols. In the midst of it all, the thing that kept running through my mind was the words to a favorite hymn, This is my Father's world.
Anyway...my friend didn't get back to me and I realized that after all that has been going on this summer, I really needed to go pick berries with just God. I needed alone time with Him.
There were birds that came to visit me. They sat on the tops of the bushes watching me pick their berries. A robin, a thrush and a female oriole flew back and forth, in and out. But there were lots of other birds that I could hear as they sang, and called, rustled in the bushes and long grass. It was quite the symphony of bird carols. In the midst of it all, the thing that kept running through my mind was the words to a favorite hymn, This is my Father's world.
This is my Father’s world, and to my listening ears
All nature sings, and round me rings the music of the spheres.
This is my Father’s world: I rest me in the thought
Of rocks and trees, of skies and seas;
His hand the wonders wrought.
All nature sings, and round me rings the music of the spheres.
This is my Father’s world: I rest me in the thought
Of rocks and trees, of skies and seas;
His hand the wonders wrought.
This is my Father’s world, the birds their carols raise,
The morning light, the lily white, declare their Maker’s praise.
This is my Father’s world: He shines in all that’s fair;
In the rustling grass I hear Him pass;
He speaks to me everywhere.
The morning light, the lily white, declare their Maker’s praise.
This is my Father’s world: He shines in all that’s fair;
In the rustling grass I hear Him pass;
He speaks to me everywhere.
It was good to be there...just me, the birds and God. In the rustling grass and bushes He found me. I felt honored and humbled to think that my Father speaks to me everywhere...anytime...I just need to make the time and space in my life to relish God's presence!
In the rustling grass, may you here Him pass!
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