I look out my window on the foggiest morning of the Winter. The meadow is shrouded in a veil of mist. The frozen moisture holds on to each twig, blade of grass and spider web.

As I sat in prayer this morning in the woods, in the grey light of pre-dawn, I could hear the rustling of the snowshoe hare under the willows. The boughs of the black spruce tree hung just above my wool cap, each of them detailed with a fine frost. From one icy needle hung an invisible thread of a spiders web, left over from the warm days of late Autumn. On the very end was suspended a treasure to put the finest jeweler to shame. The strand of silk was collecting crystals of its own. A feather of frost, nary the size of snowflake, drifted and floated in the cool drafts of the East breeze. Before my eyes hung the fragility of Creation we so often hear of. With a warm breath, the passing of a sparrow or a sudden gust of wind, this suspended gem would be gone. It won’t be there when I return tomorrow. I will never see its uniqueness again. There will be other wonders, other marvels. But none the same. As it is with the rest of Creation; humans, animals, plants. We must evaluate each act as life-giving or life-taking.

Were my words in that conversation life-giving or did they destroy a piece of that person?

Is my lifestyle making this world a better place for my children’s grandchildren?

Does my family know I love them? What have I done this week to restore myself?

Have I gazed upon the face of my children with the same awe and wonder as this moment?

With the flick of a switch, the utterance of a word, the toss of a wrapper, this suspended gem could be gone.

It won’t be there when we return tomorrow. Let no moment pass with lack of attention to the detail that was poured into it at the time of Creation.

Going where called,
Doing what is asked,

Doug