"When one tugs at a single thing in nature, he finds it attached to the rest of the world."    

                                    John Muir

Not too long ago on a warmish winter day, I glimpsed the spear of a daffodil peeping up to ask if it was time to emerge from hibernation.  Alas, since then, the temperature dropped to minus zero Fahrenheit for a couple of nights, screaming not yet!  Until the deep freeze, my  winter pansies were the only cheerleaders on Flower Drive.  Now all color from my front lawn has been wiped away.   When two  black-as-night crows stopped to rest a few minutes in the oak tree nearest my house, a  swarm of starlings swept over the horizon, adding to the bleakness of this winter.  Meanwhile, closer up, finches, titmice, woodpeckers, cardinals, sparrows and doves at my copper topped feeder reminded me of the tilt of mother earth on her axis. Deeper might be the winter, but more welcome and glorious will be the spring.   Patience, I reminded myself.  The resurrection is near.

        Recently my Sunday school text focused on the Syro-phoenician woman who pleaded with Jesus to heal her mentally ill daughter.  Matthew’s telling of this event emphasized her recognition of Him as Lord and the determined faith she had as she worshipped Him, a beautiful lesson in love, compassion and answered prayer.

          Studying the text, I was reminded of how my life has been lived out in metaphors, seeking His best for myself and for others along my way, pondering my passages, and coming home (after all those long sojourns to the remote corners of the globe) to where I belong.  Now, as the upper years creep upon me, a new metaphor to face the future in faith --going home – the final journey.  O, blessed assurance to know and proclaim with all that my heart knows is true I have the promise of eternal life.