"So," they say, "nobody's perfect!"
But the Vinedresser won't buy that.
Given the opportunity, He will trim the unproductive suckers and shape the branches so each one will bask in Sonlight.
Saturday, November 27, 2004
Moonbeams
Maddy was immersed in her own olfactory world, nose to the ground, assimilating information humans can scarcely imagine. I on the other hand, held my head high, in my own visual world, eyes to the night sky.
About two hours into its nocturnal journey, the full moon played behind a horizontal, roughly oval cloud, one of a sparse band of low-lying clouds. Behind the moon, and the silver-lined clouds hiding it, a field of stratus clouds picked up the lunar brilliance, streaked as a fine silver platter carelessly polished.
Cast far beyond that silvery idyll, almost directly overhead, tapering, transparent shafts of silver light penetrated a star-specked, deep blue sky. How many precise, meteorological elements did God have to arrange in the heavens for me to behold that magnificent, sky-filling display? Yet, it was but a small thing compared to the Gift of His Son's blood, spilled to cleanse my sin, to transform my life, to open my eyes to His nature and His creation so I might praise Him.
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