What cues help you remember to seek and follow God? I need all the help I can get. If you read much of what I write, you will see clear evidence that I am drawn to nature. Not only do I talk to the animals, but they also provide memorable examples for me of how to simply live. This week my teachers, Ms. Lamb and Mr. Robin, taught me how to prepare for life’s storms.

I woke to warm, bright sunlight streaming into the bedroom window. Days that begin bright steer my trajectory toward positivity. After getting the day going with chores, I caught sight of snow falling. I checked and double-checked. Sure enough, the newly greyed sky poured tiny flakes. Perhaps I imagined the sun? Forthwith, all my fresh-from-bed energy went behind the clouds with my beautiful blue sky.

A little while later, I backed out of the garage into a gorgeous sunny day. The thought occurred to me that finally I was actually “losing it”. I set off to do my away-from-the-house chores. Patches of clouds, pouring snow, roved randomly over the area. I hopped around town, changing direction to avoid them, as if I was in a pinball machine.

One of my hops took me out into the county, to a road I seldom use. Farms dominate the county land.  I, as usual, spoke to all the livestock I came across. Lots of cows looked at me like I was crazy. As I came around one bend, a flash of fluffy white caught my eye. I looked left just in time to see a little lamb clumsily get to her feet. My heart melted. Cuteness overload set in. I pronounced the day a complete success, no matter what.

After my chore on that end of town, I decided to go home by the same route, hoping to get another glimpse of the lamb. What I saw, as I passed by the second time, lodged itself into my see-er.

By then, the little lamb rested at the front side of her mama. She placed her precious white fluff in a sunny spot. Her little face was turned upward to the sun. Her eyes were closed, and I kid you not, she was smiling. Of all the heavenly sweetness to see on a Saturday…. I found the motherload.

Something about that little lamb, with her upturned face, speaks to a deep place in my heart. It resonates with the part of me that knows I am loved by my Heavenly Father. I journeyed out into the county and God provided me with a reminder of who I am. Pretty cool, right?

“For he is our God, and we are the people of his pasture, the sheep under his care.”

Psalm 95:7a

I bet she was cold, the lamb. She probably moved to get warm. I noticed her sibling curled up at their mama’s back.  On Saturday, all the animals in the fields were subject to the roving, pouring, patches of snow, like the rest of us. I worked to avoid them, but the animals weathered them.

Not long after I returned home, we had a 15-minute blizzard. The skies were grey once again and snow was blowing sideways.  It snowed long and hard enough to turn the lawn white. I thought of the little lamb. Was she cold again? Had she basked in the sun long enough to sustain her in the blowing snow?

We are his people, the sheep under his care – God knows us. He also knows about all the roving, pouring, patches in our lives. The question I have for myself, and for you, is: Are we basking, in all the warmth God offers, enough to sustain us when storms come?

“My sheep hear my voice. I know them and they follow me.”

John 10:27

I watched the 15-minute blizzard with rapt attention. I wandered between the front windows and the back windows. Snow isn’t all that strange around here in late March. The complete bipolar pattern on the day was, however, strange. Out the back window, I noticed a very confused Robin. He stood in the same spot getting snowed on for several minutes before he decided to join his friend under a nearby bush. He had been so busy shopping for worms that the sudden turn in weather stunned him.

I relate to that Robin far too much. I go about my business and miss what goes on around me. Does that resonate with anyone? Life asserts itself and, without meaning to, we get caught up. Instead of basking in His word, or stopping to talk to God, I wake up with an agenda and charge into my days.

The storms roll in without me noticing. One of “those” phone calls comes. Depression creeps in. I get stuck in my head without any adult supervision. All of the sudden, I realize I am cold, and a blizzard is roaring around me. My warmth is spent. Why? Not enough basking, the fault of no one but myself.

I hope to remember that sweet little lamb for a long time, with her upturned face. What a picture! I wish I had stopped to take an actual picture. I have it, though, *taps noggin* in my head. Sometimes that is the best we can do and that is okay.