One complicated afternoon I drew aside from the hurried crowds and stood alone upon a quiet hill by Silver Lake. In those moments of silence I remember vividly the touch of the soft gentle breeze as it blew across my face. Tender as the sweet kisses of breaking dawn falling over the small mourning dove eating low to the ground, I felt the spirit of the wind song in my soul. I called this a grace day.

As the years go by, we all will need to measure the winds that blow over our days. Some will move around us with a kindness all their own. Others will come with hurricane strength to toss us as feathers in the midst of the storms. On these wild restless hours of the “nor’easter” we learn of courage, balance and hope. God has promised to be with us all the days. He is the way of standing tall in every wind that blows. An old prayer whispers “May the grace of God be with you all.” In Him, we measure every wind, especially when we’re facing the eye of the storm.

Prayer: Almighty God of promised presence and unconditional love, grant us the wisdom to measure our days, trusting always in thy abiding words of peace. Add to our weakness your strength, to our sadness your joy, and to our emptiness your fullness. Teach us to live low to the ground in the Presence of the Great Mourning Dove. So let it be. Shalom.

Rev. Richardson (ret.)