West Virginia Morning: Doxology

Jesus is honey

I awaken before the sun touches the meadow, drift out onto the frozen grass, breathe deep of glory. John Calvin believed theology must begin and end with praise and this morning I cannot disagree. All the world is kissed in white. Except the red of the cardinals at my feeder—crimson flashes on the edge of vision. They chip-chip at me from hiding places as I trespass into their doxology.

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I hop the fence, briefly thinking of Christmas cards and boxed up nativities and how only one side of the lights out front are working. When did life become a race? I want to amble slowly to the manger, savor each step, let my senses delight in scent of straw and flicker of candlelight. Calvin said the world is a theater for God’s glory but lately, I keep forgetting my lines. My eyes are hungry, my soul thin. I don’t know what I am looking for in this ice-meadow, shivering through my robe, standing beneath a roof of lacy gossamer. Delicate crystals of ice rim the memory of autumn and the beauty of the Uncreated One shines before me. I feel the wonder of advent settle into my skin.

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We wait amidst glory upon glory, this beauty dropped into our lives as gift. “The world was founded for this purpose,” said Calvin, “that it should be the sphere of divine glory.”

Overhead, a red-tailed hawk soars on the waking wind and, I, below, lift my small voice and sing the doxology.

Comments

  1. says

    I don’t know how your writing could be more anointed, more “perfect”.
    Praises to The One who inspires you.
    Praise Him from Whom all blessings flow . . .
    Len at Gloryteller.com

  2. Paula Gamble says

    You inspire me, Laura, to look for the Beauty all around me. Seems like I have been inside for the last 3 weeks and I’m ready to get back out into Creation! There’s beauty and life everywhere.

  3. says

    Oh what a breath of cool fresh air your words and delightful images are, Laura! They soothe with a summer’s heat, mellow a heart with autumnal glow, yet retain the crisp alertness of winter in their invitation to taste grace present in the daily. Thank you.. just lovely as always.. 🙂 x

  4. says

    I can almost feel the bite of cold and hear the crunch of frost beneath my feet. I’m listening to Handel’s Messiah as I read you words this morning, Laura. The moment is perfect. Bless you.

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