This morning, my youngest announces that enormous dark birds cover the front lawn. That shroud of winged darkness descends to greedily feed, cracking open whatever fruit it finds.
I’ve not even had my coffee yet, but she’s running outside to stomp her tiny foot in the middle of that flock.
The birds scatter in terror.
I remember our power against evil–that Defeated Foe–who falls to feed. I stomp my foot against it, and it has no choice but to flee.
I love that image of a flock of birds scattering at the stomp of a child’s foot. Why is it so hard to remember that Satan is a defeated foe?