Folded paper, lines left in the middle, wrinkled from folding and refolding. Not crisp, not new, not pristine, yet, infinitely precious to me. Papers carrying words, simple words, spiritual snacks that I take to work in my bag. Low caloried, high sustenance words.
God speaks in so many ways it is unfathomable. If I can't hear him one way, he finds another and another, until only the deaf cannot hear and they can see.
God the Father sends children to love, so I may experience his love. Precious creatures so divinely wrought that the very sight of them fills me with awe. He wants me to know that awe. His awe.
God the Creator gives me such beauty in so many forms surrounding me that should I live a million years, a thousand life times, I will never see it all. An ever changing canvas of sunrises and sunsets, fall leaves and summer flowers, evergreens standing sentinel over virgin snow, high on mountain tops no man has ever seen.
Music flowing through the ages, building to crescendos that make my heart pound, then sliding softly into mellow notes so haunting I wonder that they are there at all.
Words to guide me and inspire me. Words filling books, lining the notepaper of school children writing their first stories, flowing from the lips of story tellers since time began, God's words.
And once every lifetime, or so, someone comes along to open hearts. Someone God sends to expand awareness. Someone who is gently woven in and out of the strands of lives, so that everything becomes a wonder to behold, a prayer of thanksgiving that I am alive, right now , here, - in this moment. There can be no greater gift than that.
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