God's Little Gift

God’s Little Gift

         God gave me a little gift this morning. Well, first of all, He let we wake up again. When you reach the ripe ole’ age of 56 you are thankful for that little miracle. But that is not the gift that I’m referring to. It was a very small thing for God, but it meant so much to me.

         I rode my bicycle this morning. To be able to climb on and negotiate my way was a joy. But again, that is not what I’m referring to. As I walked into the glory of His morning, I felt so blessed. There are many reasons that I have for this feeling. I live in a very big house—well it seems big to me. I have a lawn that is well manicured. It has shrubs, trees and flowering plants which are located along the sculptured border of the garden areas. In the summer we have humming birds, robins, and cardinals who consider my yard as their domain. I am more than happy to share it with them. After all it really does not belong to me. My Father has given it to me to care for. I do my best. As I left for my morning ride, I drank in the beauty of God’s creation. That was a part of God’s little gift.

         I peddled slowly, for this outing of mine was not meant to be an aerobic exercise; its total purpose was for pleasure alone. The fresh morning air was filtered by a steady rain that came last night. It still had a tinge of rain left in it which teased my senses with its smell. The clouds were still abundant but beginning to break. I looked to the heavens and could see hints of orange and yellow highlighted across the edges of the clouds, as if God had dipped his brush in vibrant oils and painted the sky for my pleasure. That was a part of God’s little gift.

         The rain brought a chill with the slight breeze. As I entered the bike path that led between the trees, I noticed that leaves had fallen during the rain last night. They were scattered across my path. The wind gently dusted at them; as my bike passed over them I heard a crunch beneath my tires. Fall is quickly approaching. Squirrels scampered across my path. I apologized for intruding into their morning. They did not listen but only ran off to do their squirrel thing. All of this was a part of God’s little gift.

         I parked my bike on the far side or our tiny lake around which my bike path embraces. I sat and listened to the sounds of the morning. The wonderous thing about an early morning is that you can hear it waking up. All kinds of creatures chatter and make their noises in the wooded areas. I observed squirrels scampering across the high branches, running down the branches and jumping from one tree to another. It amazes me that the creatures who live above us, up in the treetops, do not recognize property lines. They carry on their chores without a concern as to who owns the property located beneath them. I get the feeling that they know who it really belongs to. They were part of God’s little gift.

         I rode on around the path across the simple bridge that crosses the gentle stream that feeds our lake. I stopped on the bridge and leaned against the rail. Using my bike as a seat and the rail to support me, I again drank in the beauty of the morning. Geese and ducks milled about in the water below me and on the nearby shore. I smiled as they bobbed their heads beneath the water, leaving their tails pointing into the sky. They went about their morning feeding, ignoring my presence and permitting me to share this time with them. I was curious that, in small groups of five or six, they would often waddle out of the lake and make their way to a small spot for a brief moment before waddling back to the water, where they once again became graceful as they glided across its surface. I noticed that someone had deposited a considerable amount of feed at that particular spot. I smiled as I realized that someone else was enjoying God’s little gift.

         I thought of my grandkids, about how much they enjoyed feeding the ducks. I thought about how much more this glory of creation means whenever I see it experienced through their eyes. I marvel at how much I love them. They are most assuredly a significant part of God’s little gift.

         And as I made my way back home and pulled into my drive way, the golden flowering mums, that Linda planted, greeted me. They said, "Good-morning and welcome home." I discovered that I was right back where I started--for I felt, again, that I was surely blessed. And indeed I am.