Into the Fire

My first conscious remembrance of seeing a humming bird and hearing birds sing is from a visit to Whidbey Island when I was quite young and a bunch of our family went up there to my Great Aunt and Uncle’s cabin. There were steep stairs leading down to the water. To this day when I regularly wake to the concert of birds singing, I’m reminded of waking up in a sleeping bag in that large wooden cabin and looking out on the porch to see a hummingbird at a feeder.

One of my favorite memories of eastern Washington is the smell of sagebrush in summer. And the fresh cut alfalfa. Mmmmm.

Long day. Short night.

Father, thank you for those things that stick to us, that remain captured and fresh and comforting in memories. Precious things to recall. Every good and perfect gift . . . In the Name of Jesus, Amen.