Outside my bedroom window, Migrating Robins, with their fluffy, whitish, winter plumage, have gathered to get their fill of berries. A much-needed sustenance to continue onward, South.
Some linger a little while. Filling the crisp, Autumn air with their sweet song. Taking rest within the tree’s colorful branches of yellows, greens and reds.
Many other feathered friends arrive to partake in the feast. All beautifully unique. All with the knowledge that it is time to take flight and journey toward warmer temperatures. Where the availability of food is prevalent. All with the intelligence of which flight pattern to follow. I marvel at such a thing.
We have not a journey mapped out before us. Its patterns, unknown.
However.
Within God’s open arms, we find rest for the weary.
Within His provisions, we take eat.
Where there is angst, we find peace.
Where there is pain, we find comfort.
His love never falters.
His Grace, for the taking.
He is our abundance.
He is our everything.
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