It's 7:30 in the morning and the porch door is open to let the warm breezes in and the noises of the birds in with them. I hear beautiful staccato chirps repeatedly. My husband is watching this morning show: birds and squirrels around the bird feeder.
I am at my computer, reading the book of Mark in the Bible and pondering the miracles Jesus performed. He was bold and true and healed people that no one could heal before his ministry. And people hated him.
Morning devotions in stereo and surround sound at my house, inside and out.
Then it occurs to me that the loud chirps might not be the birds, but my husband's whistles as he talks to the birds in appreciation for the show they display in the morning for him. (The rare painted buntings are the best. The cardinals second best because they are a bit of Virginia for us here in Florida.)
He is proud of his part in the conversation on the porch and tells me he is talking to the birds.
I am filled with feelings I can't describe, sharing this morning with my husband, the birds, the breeze and with God.
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