March 21st, the first day of Spring, made its appearance in snowflakes . . . not exactly what most had hoped for. On the mountaintop the silent, pristine white beauty sketched across the Smokies put my soul at peace, knowing that in all of creation, “Among the gods there is none like unto thee, O Lord; neither are there any works like unto thy works.” – Psalm 86:8
The many venues of God’s creation speak different dialects. Atop mountains, the majesty of His grandeur envelops me . . . amidst forests, I sense a harmonious peace . . . and standing on an ocean beach, my infinitesimal smallness.
Here’s but a glimpse of the humbling and comforting dialect wind, surf and sunrise spoke to my soul, assured that in the incomprehensible vastness of the universe . . . I matter to Him . . . Who literally loved me to death on a cross.
Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me!