When you see a bird on a wire, you can ask all kinds of questions. Like, why, little birdie, do you want to sit on that nasty sterile wire, rather than on a nice woody branch? How is it that you don’t slip right around that thing and hang like a gymnast from the bottom? Are you just resting for a moment, or is this going to be a long perch while you gaze into the infinite sky? What’s it like to be up there while we plod along below? Why do you fly away when I stop to look up?
Unless you are walking in the pages of a fiction book, the bird will not answer you. Not in words. But if you think about it long enough, you will realize that you don’t need answers. The bird tells the same story every day, just like every other creature in this beautiful created world. He tells the story of His Maker. And that’s the story you need to be telling, too.
So where did Fiction Friday go? If you think about it long enough, you’ll realize that you don’t need the answer to that.
If you see this post sitting like a bird on a wire, it’s a sure sign that it will be deleted in the morning.
Lynniebeemuseoday 