There are times in life when your heart can't believe your eyes.
Like this morning, for instance. Spring has been late in coming, but it arrived with a she-bang last week. The creek rose to full capacity within hours after a day of long-awaited sunshine. The robins arrived. You could smell the baring earth, hear birdie banter, sense spring on the beautiful breeze. I went to bed smiling after a visit to our neighbour's farm to see lithe lambs cavorting in sheer joy to be alive.
And I woke up to this.
My heart can't believe my eyes.
The world looks like it would be more comfortable offering Santa sleigh-rides than it would preparing a place for a goose to lay a snowy-white egg. And yet gaggles of geese newly arrived from their wintering grounds further south are wandering around right now wondering where to deposit their precious cargo.
I bet they can't believe their eyes, either.
Life has a knack of delivering the unexpected. Late spring snowstorms. Nasty medical diagnoses. Loss of life and health and finances and comfort and peace of mind. Any of these is apt to fool our senses into thinking that we are closer to Christmas than we are to Spring.
And it is just at these times of heart-ache, just at the doorway to disaster, just at the gate of grief, that we can't allow our heart to believe our eyes. We can't afford to let what our senses see drown the promises of God and block the blessing.
For a poem on this topic, visit Meanwhile, Melody Muses