Car troubles. A worrying thump. Potholes in Scotland mean new brake calipers in Wales. Doom and gloom rises. Happiness retreats. Yet I am here – safe. Warm. I step outside and breathe. Still, cool air fills my lungs. In the twilight, a solitary sparrow sings a goodnight song. Somehow peace returns. The sunset lights the clouds. In the shadow of the dusk I watch, until the shadows become dark, and the streetlights shine out ever more brightly. I retreat inside. At rest with life. Not quite content, but getting there.
Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? – Matthew 6:26-27