The Practise of Gratitude.

Yesterday my husband woke me from a late afternoon nap, to show me a tiny baby fawn curled up at the side of our front steps:

I wondered if his mother had put him into the trees and bushes, and he decided to move himself, or if he was placed there by his mother. He was very small, and didn't move when my husband walked way out onto the lawn to take his picture, but did open one eye, you can see the flash reflected. (An indication of his tiny size can be gained from the very small dog dish behind him.)

Today my friend was released from hospital, I went to pick him up and take him home. (This is the second of my friends to be in hospital during the last few weeks, the first one died on May 17th.) I've done all that I could do to help, and have offered to be phoned at any hour of the day or night, and also to help with weeding; as the weeds have been rampaging in his garden whilst he's been away.
I do what I can, and I let the rest go. I've discovered that it's very difficult not to hover in certain circumstances, but that if I wish to allow a friend their dignity, I must be willing to move back a step. In my arrogance, I may think that I know what is best for someone, but do I truly? Isn't this best left to their Higher Power?

To love, I must respect. To respect, I must be willing to allow for that which I might not choose for myself.
I must allow those I love to make their own choices. I can't live their lives for them, and I have no right to try to hammer the round peg of my solutions into the square hole of their problems. Let go, and let God.