A Veiled Faithfulness

Yesterday's entry from my morning journal:

These days, my morning coffee and quiet time begin in the darkness of night. I sit by my window as the hint of dawn begins to define my world--the trees and shrubs, roof lines and snow banks. Each morning I wonder what creation will proclaim to me about God in the sunrise splendour, for everyone loves a multi-coloured shimmering display in the sky.

This morning gave none of that, for a thick blanket of snow-threatening clouds spread across our big prairie sky.

There was no light display wonder and yet, there WAS wonder as the darkness slowly dissipated and my world took on its full shape without shadow. The sun had arrived. Even though I couldn't see it, I could testify to its faithful rising, NOT instant but slow and methodical, never changing. Present but not seen.

How like God, and the constant of Him in my life, I thought. His presence in my past, my future, my now. Not always seen, but always present. I smiled at the beauty--the glory--of the day's sunrise.

And then, as an added gift, a hazy orb of yellow glowed from behind the coverage. Not a full revelation. Still hidden. But enough.

And I heard God say, "Here you go. Just for you. An added reminder--a bonus--just because I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!"

And then it was gone. But oh it was enough. It was more than enough.

I got on with the busyness of the day, at peace, and basking in the presence of the Trinity.

Thank you Father! Thank you Jesus! Thank you Holy Spirit!