In Him we live and move and have our being.
From my desk I see a hawk fly across the blue sky.
The wind blows on the palm trees, and the bunch of leaves at the top of the long giraffe neck's trunk looks like hair pushed to the side.
I drive to work and the grass is so green it looks like a painting.
I drive home, and against the sun-setting sky, the tree branches look like fuzzy black things.
In Him we live and move and have our being.
Life. See it. In the quiet. Feel it. The beauty.
Common grace.
Thank Him.
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