The world is bursting tonight. Actually drunk on Spring, the birds are singing after the sun has disappeared. In May rains, Winter’s dirty face has been washed clean for another year, and the deer are celebrating. I hear their rasping danger call, and see them as they bounce into the woods. The sky is the inside of a cantaloupe. My sneakers are soaked.
I have been noticing lately, the certain way children cling to their father. I found myself watching on Sunday, reminded of how it used to feel. I can so distinctly remember the safety and trust and the smell of my parents when I was little.
It’s as if I’ve blinked and forgot why the little girl laughs when her dad swings her away over the mud puddle. Unaware that there are i’s to dot and t’s to cross, she isn’t concerned about getting life right. She’s not afraid. Not afraid of falling, and not afraid of her own utter delight.
This May night is a Father’s own embrace to me. He is so tangibly here, He does what He wants, and He wants to make things well. So back off, Satan. You may bedevil our motives and choices. You might stir the muddy waters of a small struggling life, but my God? He brings Spring every year.