Sitting at evenfall on my front step, I become aware, as for the first time (is this the first time?) that the achingly beautiful creation surrounding me is not only created by God, not only full of fellow creatures, but that these creatures pour God's love back out into the creation and even to me. God is actively loving me, and all of God's creatures, through them. Every atom zings the love of God offered through creation.
I am awed. My mind begins--only barely--to comprehend the glimmering edge of this magnitude of love in all of the lives that surround me daily.
Yet here I sit, being loved, being loved.
By delicious mint and pungent oregano
By the mockingbird singing his heart in the trees
By the upsurging, havenly tulip poplar
By the greying sky
By the gleaming, glorious moon
By the thrumming, whirring crickets
By the tiny lightning bugs, by their intermittent glow
(They, like love, are there, whether or not we see them)
By the sounds of human laughter through this neighborhood
By the very earth that bears me up
What outpouring of God's self to the creation, to all alike! What gratitude I feel (though my gratitude seems a poor thing in the face of such wondrous bounty). And yet I will not stifle the thanks in my heart.
"I shall again praise God, who is the help of my countenance and my God." (Ps. 43)