Yesterday I sat and watched a mother raccoon and two offspring slowly climb down from one of our big poplar trees in our front yard and scamper off into our woods. So fair to witness. I praised God. This morning I raised my head from prayer and saw the fleeting image of a red fox running silently along our bank, bushy tail tipped in white making him some sort of silent missile of meaning. I praised God. I use to read the James Harriet books beginning with All Creatures Great and Small. I seem obligated to write all of this, not really sure why. NEXT MORNING. This morning I was reading the Ancient text and a mighty owl bellowed his hoot into the darkness. I laughed out loud and said, “well aren’t you full of yourself.” He hooted once again; I do believe a tad louder. Later a bullfrog began to croak, just four or five times but he was a big fellow too. It amazes me how close we are to the wild. I live in town but the wild ones are always crossing my path. But I am the wildest one, found my wildness at The Cross, free, free indeed, to be the wildest one in my animal kingdom. Adventure is at every turn, the good earth beckons to me every moment, come and be a part of His great Kingdom, walk its length and breadth and allow the milder wilder ones a glimpse of the benevolent king of the jungle.
You have mastered the art of listening. It adds a richness to life that is alien to most because it requires being still and tuning out the din of distractions of 2020.
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