these stars of mine.

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On a fresh Spring morning, the dog and I fumble down the steps and out into the world. It’s still at least an hour from dawn and we are trotting through this sleeping giant playing our morning song.

It’s the soft plodding of my shoes hitting asphalt and cement over and over again. It’s the sharp tinkling of his tags against the metal clasp on his leash, gentle and melodic and full of his simple joy.

The sky is still the dark, deep blue of eventide and the wind is just barely carrying what will be the fragrant assault of the blooming season.

God begins His daily work, the beautiful and complex work of His hands: He wakes up the world. My song changes.

It’s the call and response of the Whipporwill, Lark, Wren, Blue Jay, Dove, Owl, Robin. How I can’t even begin to draw lines around one chirrup before another begins. How the soft wind blows the wisps of hair off my damp brow.

I am Abraham.

These are my stars.

Days walking in an unknown direction. Promises and dreams and hopes so full and pressed tight that I can’t hold them in. When the answer tarries. When I don’t feel His goodness, His light, His hope. In the dark of night.

I am Abraham.

These are my stars.

I have only to look. If He sends me where I don’t know. If He changes all my dreams. If He always answers with not-yets. If His goodness and light and hope feel far. If darkness surrounds me.

I have only to listen. I can’t count the beautiful ways He has made music through these feathered, winged things. I can’t count.

And even if all these things, I will always want to love the One who took bumpy skin and wispy feathers and tiny eyes and scrawny legs and put the melodic breath of a symphony inside.

Always.

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4 thoughts on “these stars of mine.

  1. You paint with words, I with paint .Thank you, this just may be my inspiration for the week ahead.(Spring Break no teaching ) may I show it to you if I make something inspired by your writing today?

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