“Consider the lilies of the field. They neither toil nor spin”.
By the lake, it’s now mid-morning as I gaze out the window into the yonder. I see the blue-grey that is Lake Huron blending with a hazy blue-gray horizon that touches Michigan’s shores. The first snow has come and gone. Nature awaits a new season of surprises, slumber, and introspection. It’s a time of stillness and rest.
Squirrels scamper restlessly about. Sammy Jay in his vibrant blue markings steals stealthfully by with a prized peanut in his bill. Bunches of golden, crispy leaves lie crunched up, waiting to be tossed about by a wintery gale. The lake with welcoming arms stretches from north to south in quiet slumber.
This will all change with a sudden blast of snow and winds and flurry.
Meanwhile, it’s tranquility here; a time to rest the spirit and marvel at the ways of nature all guided by an unseen hand.
We “neither toil nor spin” by the lake.
Eileen Foran, CSJ