I remember being amazed as a child the way the birds would arrive each year in late February or early March. The trees would stand bare against the grey skies with empty hands uplifted. Then, in an instant, the birds would come. I would hear the robins or crows-- whichever it happended to be that day-- and then watch as they settled, giving dark leaves to the stark oak trees.
I was reminded of this ritual a couple of weeks ago when I took two of the girls to choir practice. We stopped for a traffic light, and as we did
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Birds were created to fly. It's what they do. That day I experienced their expression of praise as they flew creatively and joyfully.
I think far too often we lose sight of what we were created to do. So here's the question: what were you created to do?