No ‘News’ on the Internet can possibly compete with the largely overlooked ‘Real News’ that begins and ends each and every day.
Whether or not we’re up early enough, or too busy to notice, the birdsong of ‘God’s Orchestra’ announces each breaking dawn. Sometimes it begins with the chirp of just one or two little birds, calling out to other feathered friends before the full chorus joins in. It’s almost as if the first awake are calling out, ‘We made it through another long, dark night, escaping all predators. Let’s joyfully give our all to God’s morning orchestra in announcing yet another daybreak!”
The Creator sends us many signs that He’s still there that many don’t notice. He sends the birdsong announcing the break of each day, and wishes us Good Night with star light, candles in the sky no wind can extinguish.
St. Paul reminds us that proof of God’s existence is in His creation, a creation there for all to see deserving of words of gratitude; the few minutes it takes to reluctantly tear ourselves away from the other ‘Twitter’, the one where folk hurl biting insults at each other; a few minutes away from surfing the ‘Net, finding out what’s new; from leaning about the latest melodrama the politicians of the day have staged for public viewing.
The best thing about the “News” sent out each morning and night by God Almighty is that it NEVER changes. As part of Natural Order, it remains the same.
Jesus, Mary and Joseph looked at the same stars we see after nightfall brings on the dark. Too many to count angels and saints prayed to the same stars with the most fervent of hopes that tomorrow would be all right.
The birdsong that announced daybreak on Christmas morn was no more joyous than it was this morning, or will be tomorrow morning.
Working at a computer facing a window overlooking a bluff, I sometimes see wildlife going about its business throughout the day. Now that it’s spring, robins and other birds fly to and fro, sometimes taking a moment’s break on the balustrade of the outside deck, still holding the straw for building their nests in their beaks before flying away. Only this morning, a tiny rabbit, small enough to fit in a palm, nibbled away at leaves in the garden.
The birds always go about their business, as if saying, “Another mouth to feed”, “Another storm from which we should be taking refuge”.
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