From Every Sky- Ward Window

Conscience runs quick to the spirit's hidden door. Straightway, from every sky-ward window, cries up to the Father's listening ears arise.
- George MacDonald

Fill me up with infinite overflow, O Lord.
Words from George MacDonald become prayers to me as I meditate on the words each morning. I borrow them in my mind, and scribble them on the pages of my journal. The depth they exhibit stirs my heart and mind.

A day begins in fog: layers of cloud settled all the way down to the grass. Fog resting at the tops of trees so that they only look like a shadow. Inside, we are within the shadow of the fog that surrounds.

Lord, You are there. You are in every shadow and every sunlit space. At the tops of trees and at the tip of blades of grass. You are also with me. Somehow I live as if I have forgotten that sometimes. You walk beside me when no one else seems to be there. Even if someone is there, so are You. But people shift, whereas You do not. You are always there, here, and everywhere.

I thank You for Your consistency. Let the morning reflection sink deep within me as I go through this new day and new month.

Morning fog - heavy laden on the earth's quiet start.
Muffled awakening of souls to greyness abounding.
Let me dwell cheerfully even if I cannot see
The light beyond and above the clouded shroud.
Help me look toward that which is eternity, not dependent on what I see now.