It’s a squirrelly morning. I know what it’s thinking.
The creation story plays out each morning as I sit on my porch, listening and watching.
“And God said: Let there be light! And there was light.”
At dawn, in my neighborhood, birds wake-up chirping and singing while they search out something to eat from the bounty of God’s good earth. Do they have to be so frisky so early in the morning? I’m shuffling and foggy this morning as I grab the container of seed and open my porch door.
I’m fairly certain that the birds flitting around my deck think that I am God. Who else would feed them personally each morning?
I’m listening to cardinals fluting their melodies sharply and loudly; the house sparrows scrambling around in their own language of cheeps and twitters; plus, whistles and melodious racket from the throats of a dozen other species and soft, harp-like melodies of a house wren plus the annoying twangs of red-winged blackbirds. I hear the whoosh of wings, again and again this morning.
I watch as the Mourning Dove arrives with a descending melodious gargle. It stays on my porch and somehow with that long slender beak consumes the bird seed I put out on the flat railing of my deck.
Then there’s my opening battle with the squirrels. The pair across the street live in a huge oak tree and have two little ones scurrying around with them. Two adults make a home in the Japanese Maple in my front yard. This morning those two are scavenging crumbs from a discarded McDonald’s wrapper.
Those across the street are digging up last years acorns and squirreling around the garbage cans which dot our street each Tuesday morning. Their life is foraging and keeping watch over their little ones. Both families also climb up to my deck and chow down the seeds that I’ve put out for the sparrows.
This is the creation story which renews itself each day. God did not wind up the clock of the universe and just put it in motion and then leave. He is here awakening these living things with a deep down freshness that AI will never understand. Even the leaves of the bushes across the street look ready to take part in this new morning. The light reveals their shades of green as they flutter with each soft breeze.
Each living thing is a universe of purpose and activity. Each sparrow, each cardinal, each squirrel is a new creation, every day. And, you and I are privileged to be witnesses of the creation of God’s new day.