It is a little past nine in the evening, nearly dark here in the northern plains. The robins, always the first to awaken in the morning and the last to stop chattering in the evening, are chirping their good-nights to one another. The pleasantly warm air is perfectly calm, as if the breezes themselves are being tucked in for the night.
Today I’ve enjoyed watching the orioles at our feeder, listening to the cardinals boast of their beauty, and being amused at the little goldfinch who landed on the screen on the window beside my desk, apparently plucking invisibly small seeds from the screen.
Char and I packed a light dinner and drove to the park beside the Mississippi, letting the lazy flow of the river mellow us as we basked in the warm of the spring sun.
Now I am enjoying a special richness as I listen to one of my favorite CDs, Samuel Barber’s Adagio for Strings in eight different arrangements. The music is smooth, quiet, deeply restful.
My feathers cannot be ruffled by the president and the fool he is making of himself over London and Qatar. I’m not bothered by my cancer or my weakened kidneys because they are merely physical problems. I’m too busy soaking in the peace of God and experiencing this small foretaste of heaven to worry about such details.
If life here and now, amidst political and cultural turmoil and health issues, can be so rich and peaceful, how could heaven be any better? But I know that it will be. In the Bible, the apostle John writes, “Beloved, we are God’s children now; what we will be has not yet been revealed. What we do know is this: when he is revealed, we will be like him, for we will see him as he is.” Just seeing God, we will be transformed, shedding all our earthly impediments and rejoicing in the full beauty and glory of God.
Have you ever entrusted yourself to your Creator? If not, isn’t now a perfect time?