Awake

Oh, had I missed it, that sweet March miracle would be lost.

It began with a tiny creature, no larger than my pinky nail, reaching a deep part of my soul. Waking me up.

But I am getting ahead of myself. Just as I did on that blustery, cold, March day. Rushing spring, stepping outside to set in the wind, coffee mug in hand, I believed I could defeat the elements.

 Instantly rebuffed. Nature held the trump cards.

An icy breeze pushed my hair into my eyes and sent its chilly fingers down the neck of my coat, declaring nature rules outdoors.

I held the warm mug to my stubbornly bare fingers. If I went inside for gloves, I’d likely stay, seduced by creature comforts.

A moment more, then I’ll retreat.

 My thoughts cycled around, and through, a growing list of physical discomforts.

Until…

A ladybug. Tiny, polished, black, and red. Dressed in her best perfect polka dot attire. She flew down from heaven, her six miniature feet sticking a perfect landing, despite the heavy wind. Olympic Gold worthy.

Surely God had nudged her, directing her flight path to land squarely in front of me on the deck rail, where I couldn’t miss her. Instructing, “Obsessed with comfort, my daughter Deborah is asleep to miracles. Wake her up. Show her even you can manage March winds. Bring her back to what called her out. To Me. To the world full of miracles around her.”

 Amazed, I woke up. Miracles were afoot.

A wedge of geese hawked overhead, flying up the cove, oblivious to their volume.

 

Below, a majestic Blue Heron perched at the water’s edge, with the stalwart faith of a statue, she stood in icy cold shallows. Believing for a catch, she could not yet see.

Above me, clouds. Edged brighter than LED, they danced across the sky, collecting mass, then shedding, morphing into shapes that, once recognized, changed. The sun danced on their edges as dark blue pushed up through their mounds of bright meringue. The wind whipped, marshaling them across the sky.

Treetops swirled, pushing barren, velvet-coated branches. Expectant with new leaf, eager to soak up the sun. Their yearling buds strained towards heaven for a better look.

Birds celebrated the strength of their wings against the wind and their songs against its din. Somewhere a trill, a whistle, a chirp. Then a pregnant pause, while I waited. From a treetop or bush, an answer returned. The sweet warbles of love in the air. I’m surrounded. They encircle me with their joy over answered prayers for a mate, and faith in the hatchlings to come.

Daffodils nod their heavy heads, acknowledging that yet again, He has resurrected them from the cold and dark of their winter graves.

Whitecaps on the lake glisten with sunlight, reflecting the sky, and push to the shore to glaze the stones along the bank. A lapping sound. The strength of a kitten at cream. Perhaps the water saying, “I make you shine.” Or the stones saying, “Thank you for my luster.”

 Inside is warm. The lure almost seduced me. I nearly surrendered.

But outside. Oh, outside. The world is alive with His exquisite miracles. Everything glorifying Him.

I look back to the messenger that flew from His finger.

Placing my thumb against the deck rail, she crawls on it without hesitation. Bringing her close, I whisper, “Thank you for waking me up.”

 My skin barely registers the sensation of lifting something so weightless.

But oh, my heart, my soul, it is she who has lifted me!

Please share how miracles in nature lift you up!