The Country Music was Off, but God was On

I surprised even myself by heading to the pool on this chilly September morning.  I knew that water was going to be cold, but the cloudless, sunny day made the lure of my favorite exercise irresistible.  As soon as I got inside the gate, I reached for the volume knob on the sound system, but, alas, someone had turned the radio completely off, and none of the usual country music came out.  I was going to have to find my own beat for aqua-jogging this morning.  Maybe it was a good thing that the water was cold.  I was most certainly motivated to keep moving.

Just as I had hoped, I had the pool all to myself.  Once I finally got my whole body submerged and started churning that water, my senses were bombarded with nature.  I was in a great man-made facility, but I was surrounded by a display only God could have created.  The air was crisp.  A gentle breeze was blowing.  A wasp stopped by for a quick drink.  Two plump fox squirrels sneaked between the bars of the gate, nervously searching for tasty morsels left behind from a recent neighborhood supper.  And, at least a dozen different birds were singing and chattering at the top of their little lungs.  One was a melodic songbird that made me think of several sopranos in our choir.  Others sounded more like a group of ladies getting together for a long-overdue lunch or some men enjoying the Senior Breakfast at Hardee's.  They were having such a good time.  I tried to imagine some of the possible "conversations."

"Hey Hilda, have you started packing for your migration trip?"
"No, Myrtle, I just thought I'd carry the clothes on my back, but I do have an appointment at 10:00 to have my feathers fluffed."

"Horace, when are you and the Missus leaving for Florida?"
"Well, Edgar, we usually leave by the end of September, but we're heading down a little early this year and stopping off at Sipsey Wilderness to visit some of Madge's cousins.  Maybe they'll put us up for the night.  That usual migratory route just gets so boring.  We thought we'd mix it up a little this year.  We're not gettin' any younger, you know."

Of course, I don't speak Bird, but I could tell they were happy.  They were doing exactly what God created them to do and were communicating the way He designed them.

What a meaningful backdrop for my prayer time this morning!  With evidences of God's presence everywhere, it was EASY to believe that He heard my praises and petitions and that He cared about everyone and everything that I cared about.  A song I learned as a child came rushing to my mind.

This Is My Father's World

This is my Father's world, and to my list'ning ears, 

All nature sings, and round me rings the music of the spheres.

This is my Father's world, I rest me in the thought

Of rocks and trees, of skies and seas; His hand the wonders wrought.

This is my Father's world, the birds their carols raise;

The morning light, the lily white declare their Maker's praise.

This is my Father's world, He shines in all that's fair;

In the rustling grass I hear him pass.  He speaks to me ev'rywhere.

This is my Father's world. O let me ne'er forget

That though the wrong seems oft so strong, God is the Ruler yet.

This is my Father's world, the battle is not done;

Jesus who died shall be satisfied, and earth and heaven be one.

Words by Maltbie D. Babcock, 1901.