Birds and Belief.

Silly title, I know, but I'm in a whimsical mood. There's a birdhouse on the top of the clothesline pole, and it's being used at the moment, by a sparrow family. I  watch impossibly tiny beaks appearing at the entrance, and a parent bird stuffing them with food. Whenever the adults return from their hunts, the excited squeaking of the babies makes me smile - anticipation and demand, all rolled into one loud sound.

I feel my Higher Power most strongly when I'm outside, listening to the soughing of the tall pines, feeling the wind in my hair, the sun on my face, and the satisfying crunch of twigs and pine cones beneath my feet.

I've passed the point in my belief where I feel the need to justify or explain. I have a comfort, I offer that to those with whom I speak and write, with no expectations that they will join me.

Today, I am content. I wish for you the same.