You Were There

A gentle mist dampened my hair
while I planted tomatoes
on hands and knees in the garden.
A soft breeze nudged the branches
of the fruit tree,
a slight perceptible nod acknowledging me.
Looking up into the tree canopy
above my head,
I am amazed to see
the thousands of apricots
set on for my summer pleasure.
And I thanked You for the many
thoughts of me in advance.

I saw You in the small bodies
of the five young squirrels cavorting
and romping on the lawn,
chasing up and down the tree trunks,
tagging one another in a flurry of tails,
delighted to be alive,
and I laughed
at such innocent clowns.

From the big bay window,
I saw the turtledove roosting on the ground,
in the soft dirt between the daisies
and the salvia, so close
I could count the speckles
on it's back and wings,
amazed at the bluish-grey aura
on the crown of her head,
a halo of sorts.
She was humming a hymn
she was so happy,
and I knew she knew
You were there.

Big sister Peyton's eyes shown bright
when she showed me
little sister's bed set up
beside her own - the crib
consigned to storage.
They buzzed with excited anticipation
to share a bedroom,
to reach for comfort in each other in the dark,
whispering secrets that only sisters share,
giggling past bedtime:
learning to give love - like You.

When I drove the sick dog to the vet,
You were there,
then, driving home, filling me
with a sweet peace
with the forever still body
in a box beside me,
and later, when I held
my weeping daughter in my arms,
I was able to console her,
as you comforted me
when my dog was forever still.
I was so grateful to that gentle old dog
for her kind presence
with my young grandchildren.
She was the essence of patience - like You.

You are the one constant, unchanging Presence
I've come to trust.
At last, I have become convinced -
I am never alone.
And I am grateful.