Does one bird say to the next, "My voice is the sweetest?" No, they just sing. Or when they fly, do they rival for the leading role? No, they just dance. What is at the heart of Nature's beauty? Her blind faith.
Favourite Writings: The Nightingale captivates the hearts of the entire forest as she sings her sweetest song in Your honour. The rhythm builds and swells as the other residents add their voices to her composition, then watch in delight as the morning breeze carries it far beyond their moss-covered sanctuary. This gentle, wee bird is utterly unaware that her small voice has the power to inspire multitudes. Let us add our voices to her song and fill the earth. “I will sing to the Lord all my life; I will sing praises to my God as long as I live” (Psalm 104:33).
There comes a season when leaves must fall. When the wind beckons them home, leaving only faded memories in their stead. Reflections of love and family embedded forever in the recesses of one’s heart. Such as the day “love” first arrived and carved its intention in the face of the magnificent oak tree that shaded our front garden. Those initials had weathered many a storm and yet continue to stand as a proud reminder, that love will prevail. The fruit of that declaration continues to cry out from the worn tire tube that swings enchantingly from her outstretched arms. The giggles of generations of offspring who played here still echo on occasion, in distant dreams. The young woman traced her finger, lovingly over the carved heart that represented her family. She watched as the last leaf twirled and fell, gracefully dancing about her feet. Closing her eyes, she smiled and agreed that another lovely season had come to an end, and she would welcome the long winter’s rest.
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