One evening as Gary and I were sitting on the patio a little owl showed his presence (maybe her presence). We were pleased and started talking to the owl in low, inviting tones. With big eyes he slowly stepped toward us, stopping every few steps. We kept sending “sweet nothings” to him with gentleness. He walked to within 6 feet of where we were sitting on the glider, settling himself to be snugged in, close to the inner branches of a Myrtle bush. There he stayed—standing, yet with a constant eye on us.

We both felt joy in this new adventure especially as the owl returned daily to stand by our Myrtle while we were so near. Besides enjoying getting up close and personal with hummingbirds at points, since building our home here 29 years ago, this is the first real “visitation” initiated by a bird.

Each time we saw him we felt joined. It was happy-making. Then, he was gone and didn’t come any more. It was like losing a friend.

It comes to mind how much God must enjoy our times of coming to Him in prayer. And, how it could hurt Him when we let go our coming to Him.

Words written by Cecil Frances Alexander in her Hymns for Little Children, 1848, All Things Bright and Beautiful, containing stanzas elaborating words within the Apostles’ Creed reminding of God as maker of all.

All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful,
The Lord God made them all.
.
Each little flower that opens,
Each little bird that sings,
He made their glowing colours,
He made their tiny wings.

The purple headed mountain,
The river running by,
The sunset and the morning,
That brightens up the sky;−
The cold wind in the winter,
The pleasant summer sun,
The ripe fruits in the garden
He made them every one:

The tall trees in the greenwood,
The meadows where we play,
The rushes by the water,
We gather every day;

He gave us eyes to see them,
And lips that we might tell,

The song’s main point, lifts the heart:

“How great is God Almighty,
Who has made all things well.” Amen.

At times coming to God is like the little owl wanting to be close, yet cautiously approaching, full of questions . . . often unable to formulate them. It is easy to be so in awe of God that we may wonder how safe it is to come close. This is a question that many speak of, in so many words, before gaining enough courage to know Him.

With eyes on us, we cherished being observed by this beloved creature. There was a sense of being seen that held gentleness and gratitude—or so we thought. The owl may have experienced something entirely different, like ”Will they help me, or hurt me.”

Both Gary and I relished being so close, so trusted. We felt sad when the owl did not return.

Is this what God feels when we fly off to a life without Him? Or, does God not feel . . . rather just waits, knowing all will be with Him—in the end? Perhaps the little owl “coming alongside” us for significant periods of time could be compared with our ”visitations,” wherein we set out  to commune with God—with words, or speechlessly in awe.

After Dad retired he learned, through a lapidary shop in Scottsdale how to cut, polish and facet stones. And, here was Dad’s treasure stash, fresh work of his hands, yes, but mostly from his heart.

Patiently, he waited as I placed each one on my ring finger before making a decision. It was fun, but serious. Saying “yes” to one excluded all the others.

How many people have had an endearing relationship with their father? We read about this happening for some and occasionally see movies that reinforce this exemplar idea. If this happened for you, congratulations.

My father had many strengths and abilities. I did not, however, find him to be in any way favoring “warm fuzzies.” No. He was all about business. A hard worker. And, certainly, he took good care of his family. Dad loved Scripture and enjoyed sharing his studies with others. Later in life, after all we children were adults, Dad and Mom even did some worldwide ministry.

As for me, I didn’t “jell” so well with him. We were so much alike that he had a hard time figuring me out. Given time, I came to realize the great gift that occurred from the “miss-match” relationship we had. My, not having a rich, warm relationship with my father found me always in search of Father God. And, although I found and loved Jesus first, the ability to commune with Father God has been an amazing journey wherein I truly am in touch by being a cherished daughter of the Father of all.

One of the things I saw in Dad that is impressive was his ability to find a graceful segway into retirement. Dad loved beautiful stones. So, he and Mom spent considerable time in Scottsdale with the best of teachers where he learned to facet stones. He spent the largest part of his last decade of life tumbling opals, polishing and faceting magnificent stones to be set and worn by Mom, his four children, close friends and daughter-in-laws.

I had my turn in choosing a few of Dad’s lovely creations, too, which surely are treasured and will be passed on to other grateful hands in due time. But, on this particular morning, I look again at the jewels he created and think of how much his work with stones is like a writer’s work with words. Words, those ever present entities found kicking along life’s path. Writers pick over and sort through them, and place them in the tumbler of our hearts. Next, we cut and buff, examine and plan, finally setting them in sentences and paragraphs.

Then, when they are shining as best we can make them, we place our offerings in “showcases”—reverently for readers. Our gift. Some will be liked and some won’t, holding power to evoke great emotion, or to get us “stoned” . . . oh, these wondrous things called words.

After meditating on these thoughts this morning, I opened my Bible, a treasured way to stay my day. Romans 3: 23-25, always touches me deeply, “For all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God, being justified as a gift by His grace through the redemption which is in Christ Jesus.” (Yay! He is at work in me!)

The dictionary shows two applicable meanings for “justified,” 1) “to pronounce free from guilt or blame, and 2) to adjust or arrange exactly.” How clear, the likeness between us and the stones beneath our feet. We, also were covered by “dirt.”  Spotted by God. Picked up and chosen. Incubated in His heart. Now in process—being cut and buffeted as we bounce about upon each other within daily life; God’s jewels in formation. Sure, a long ways from completion, but coming along according to His design.