Nothing Hides Here

The cats alert me that something’s outside the window. They pace nervously, meowing and pawing at the glass.

It’s a little bird.

I peer outside and notice the tangle of branches against the morning sky. I’ve looked out this same window for seven years. I used to wait for the most glorious morning when the Weeping Cherry blooms for those precious few days in the spring. That’s the thing to see. But this morning, I love the skeletal branches, the deep shadows, the dim winter light, and the pale browns. I love that, like this, one can see the birds. They have no foliage in which to hide.

God reminds me that there’s something to experience and rejoice in no matter how bare the landscape appears. Nothing hides here.

I think of Psalm 65:

The whole earth is filled with awe at your wonders; 
where morning dawns, where evening fades
you call forth songs of joy. 

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