Sunday Morning Worship

I usually attend church in a building, manmade with blocks and mortar.  This Sunday, however, my sanctuary was in the woods.  It was serene, secluded and holy.  I usually get smiles and hugs from my church family.  This week, however, the sun warmed my back, a gentle breeze caressed my cheek and I felt the presence of my Father as I walked.  The choir was composed of bluebirds, chickadees, titmice and bluejays, and the crows interrupted the service occasionally with a raucous amen!  A chocolate lab, still wet from his romp in the creek, nudged me and gave me a very wet kiss.  It was a wonderful time of fellowship with my Father, and He quieted my soul.  I will return to my regular church next Sunday, but I’ll never forget last Sunday’s worship hour.  My Father was with me, and I was giving Him praise, honor and glory.

Song for the day:  In the Garden

“And He walks with me, and He talks with me, and He tells me I am His own, and the joy we share as we tarry there, none other has ever known.”


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