It’s a lovely Sunday morning! We’re dogsitting for Chip‘s older brother, Baker, and I must have been a sight to see outside earlier. I filled a thermos of coffee from our french press and grabbed our camera, sure I would find something lovely in the park. Then Baker took me for a walk. I imagined a serene, contemplative morning and I was, instead, juggling a camera, a thermos of coffee, and a large dog that wanted to run when I wanted to be still and stay (or, um, pee all over everything) when I wanted to move.
So the little adventure went differently than I expected, but, of course, the woods were still beautiful. As the landscape displayed spring coming out of the dull grayness of winter, I kept thinking of a hymn from Scotland called “God Moves in Mysterious Way.”
God moves in a mysterious way, his wonders to perform;
He plants his footsteps in the sea and rides upon the storm.
Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take; the clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy and shall break with blessings on your head.
Judge not the Lord by feeble sense but trust him for his grace;
Behind a frowning providence, he hides a smiling face.
His purposes will ripen fast, unfolding ev’ry hour
The bud may have a bitter taste, but sweet will be the flower.
Blind unbelief is sure to err and scan his work in vain;
God is his own interpreter and He will make it plain.
– William Cowper