—Psalm 111:2 (NIV)
The budding rose. The fading oak. The gentle stirring of the wind through ripening grain. The deafening roar of the waterfall. The trickle of a stream. The splendor of sunrise. The awe of starlit nights. The silence that accompanies fresh snow.
Who am I, Lord, that I should be so blessed by Your imagination? That I should live in a world filled with such diverse beauty and wonder? The words I pen today won’t even capture an iota of the detail You’ve woven into the smallest molecules making up the world I see. And yet, how can I not try?
If imitation is the greatest form of flattery, then let each word I form today reflect the marvelous nature of Your creative spirit, the depth of Your passion, and the wonder of Your love.
—Jen