Monday, July 22 2024 - 2:21 AM
Sandhill cranes at God's Picnic
Photo by Pixabay

God’s Picnic

If yI have no pictures, except in my mind.

We closed the door at 6:32 this morning, locked it, and began our daily two-mile walk. Even though some of our muscles have been stretched in preparation, our minds usually begin this part of the day at half mast. That was true this morning…until we looked up.

Dark purple clouds hung above the trees, each one laced with orange hi-lighter. And, whoever was wielding the hi-lighter was mighty busy. Before we reached the driveway, swashes of ORANGE were wrapping the sky! Then they came, as they have come for the last 20-some mornings; just above the treetops, rattling away at each other, a pair of noisy Sandhill Cranes out for their morning fly.

Our Appointment With Wonder

The cranes were louder today, cheering on the sunrise and discussing the air’s cool promise of Autumn. Forty feet up, they nodded greetings to the earthbound as they winged by.

We walked the mile plus to the last stop sign, all of the time turning and watching as the hi-lighter angel switched to a yellow pen and scribbled far outside the lines.

Then the cranes returned, rattling away about the sky and settling into the vacant soccer field.

“The food’s best over here,” one of them called from beneath the eastern goal. “Let’s eat over here instead today,” the other answered from midfield. “We can see the sunrise better from here.”

Brenda and I walked toward home and then gasped as we glanced back at the Sandhill Cranes. The angel had taken all her pens and drawn a complete rainbow above the birds as they picnicked on the soccer field. Reds, yellows, violets, greens, and more glittered in the air as if God Himself was celebrating their picnic!

“He brings me to the banquet hall, so everyone can see how much he loves me.” His banner over me is love (Song of Solomon 2:4, NLT).

Dick Duerksen writes from the Pacific Northwest.

If you enjoyed this, you may also enjoy Committed Cranes | Why Is Nature Important for Our Spiritual Life? 

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About Dick Duerksen

Dick Duerksen

writes from the Pacific Northwest.

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