I do some writing under the pen name of ZG, I wrote this several years ago and thought some might enjoy it.
It was almost breaking light as I made my way up the fence line to the top of the hill. My "sitting and listening" rock was waiting for me and after the long climb it was always a welcome sight. Just behind me on the flat stands the largest elm tree that I've ever seen. It keeps watch over three small graves noted only by three thin oblong markers spelling out the names of three little girls that all died during the same week of April in 1851. No one, not even the landowner, knows anything about the family other than the last name Yeats. It is hard to imagine what that family went through during that long ago time. Each spring I spend some time there kneeling by those graves in silent prayer. I really don't know why it just seems like the right thing to do.
Another day that God has made for us is about to begin. To my right an owl announces to the world that his night of hunting and feeding is over, a whippoorwill continues to preach his sermon to anyone who will listen, and way down in the valley a rooster serves as an alarm clock for his barnyard friends. Soon the crows will start their endless search for someone named "Caw", but never beaten out by the cardinals who are always the first birds to wake up. Not too far down in the hollow I hear a gobble and then his competitor answers. It's the sounds of the morning; a perfect blend of birds, frogs, insects, and all things that God created. It is a symphony that man cannot re-create and one that cannot be totally described.
The light increases revealing a slight mist of fog in the low places, the eastern sky begins to light up with a color hue that no man could paint. The aroma of growing things fills the air and a gentle breeze kisses my face bringing forth yet another sense that God has given us. My thoughts turn to people who have never gotten out of bed and experienced the miracle of another day being born, I suppose even worse is those who have and never appreciated what God created just for us.
The ole gobbler and his competitors are feeling pretty spunky this morning. Between the four or five of them their gobbles are almost non-stop and it's almost time to head in their direction. On second thought maybe I'll just sit here a while longer, I never want them to be the only reason why I do this.
ZG
I like it!! :icon_thumright:
Thanks for sharing!!
God Bless,
David B.
Awsome read! :icon_thumright:
Thank you so much for sharing.
Good Stuff!
Cool read
Beautiful, eloquent and soulfull.
Great read Pastor. In Northern Mi. in an area I sometimes hunt there is a small cemetery near the side of the road. The grave closest to the road is for a little girl also. She too went to be with the Lord back in the 1800's. Someone still maintains this grave. I have found fresh flowers and shiny pennies placed there. Probably a bunch of prayers have been left there as well. :cross2: :cross2: :cross2:
Thank you for sharing.
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Very nice!! Pretty much sums it up right there...
Thank you for sharing!!
That's an awesome story! Thanks for sharing.
Pastor, that pretty much says it all. Thanks for sharing your writings with us. :cross2:
I think that pretty much sums up how we all feel.
Thank God for His creation, and thank Him again for allowing us to enjoy it :jesus-cross:
Sir I thank you for sharing your rock with us . :cross2: