Countless blessings touch our lives moment by moment.
How many of us take the time to observe and appreciate them?

Like so many, I have fumbled and stumbled through life, missing so much of what the Father has bestowed upon us. It has taken the greatest gift of all, my precious Wandering Star, to cause me to take note of life, in all its forms.

The Great Spirit resides within all of His Creations, and He can be observed by simply opening ones self unto His Creations. From the smallest microscopic entity, to the limitless expanses of the universe, the Presence of the Almighty is there; all are infused with life, motion and spirit because He expresses His existence through them. Without the Presence of the Almighty, none can exist.

Far upon a near-by hill, covered with trees, bushes, vines and brambles, I see a small, yellow flower, with her petals spread wide, smiling at the golden sun. I can hear her praises from here; "Thank you Father for allowing me this time, this time to enjoy my friends the trees, bushes, vines and brambles. I shall never complain that I am alone for I shall never be truly alone with Your Presence all about me."

The smiling, yellow face, waving in harmony with the song of the wind, is far more a tribute unto the Almighty than the mightiest man who is blind to that which he tramples beneath his boot. From sun to sun, the tiny flower is a glory unto everyone.

Beneath her outstretched leaves, ants are busy toiling; taking in their stores for the coming winter; while above her is the honeybee, partaking of her succulent nectar. All are in harmony, all are singing their praises to the Great Mystery, the Great I AM.

From the outstretched limbs of the gently swaying trees, birds of gorgeous array sing, as they hop merrily from limb to limb, while others are taking to wing. The woods are full of life indeed, all are provided for, none has need.

A group of white-tailed deer can be seen, silently making their way to their evening glen, while avoiding their predators den. A covey of quail, broods of bushy-tailed foxes are quietly, but happily making their way through the tall grasses. The woods are truly alive and none has need for any of man's contrivances.

From sun to sun, the day is a gift unto everyone. From its golden hue, glistening upon the morning dew, to the reds, orange and blues, as the close of day ensues. How can anyone but marvel at all that lies around?

Mother earth brings forth her abundance that we might partake of her bounty but how many take the time to thank her? How many take the time to protect her? She gives so much, and asks so little but we constantly abuse her. God forgive the wastefulness of men, the wanton destruction of her gifts.

Mother earth and our Father, the Great Spirit give of themselves day by day, moment by moment but we are so busy with our own selfish ways that few of us even take notice. Praise be unto all of Creation, thank you for allowing us to sing and dance before you. Not all men will always be so unmindful, for a new day dawns tomorrow, a time when perhaps there will be less sorrow.

Love,
Spirit Dove