How I would love to be the eagle soaring peacefully above the harried torrent and worries of the day. How I long for such strength and wisdom. Instead I will probably always be a little awkward swallow, trying to fly too high for my weak little self, flapping furiously and ineffectively against the tumultuous winds of this life.
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I am surprised to watch the wasp attack the bee, biting him on his fuzzy back with short quick jabs. I want to help the bee. I love bumblebees and their pollination duties are so needed. Plus I am no fan of the hot headed bothersome wasps. But I am barefoot and have nothing to swat with. So I watch and silently root for my bee.
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We cannot contain God’s marvelous Creation. It always finds a way to break through, and raise its leafy arms upward toward the sun, in defiant praise of its Creator.
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