On a late October day I sat at a picnic table in the park surrounded by books, paper and lunch. A north wind sent chills through my too-light sweater while noisy geese congregated nearby, planning their southbound flight. The sun peeked from behind the clouds every few minutes but not long enough to take the shiver from my arms and back.
Others drifted away, driven from the park by the cold. I knew my days there were numbered so I stayed and watched a tour boat make what might be its last trip downriver. Understanding my sadness at saying goodbye to my lunch hour retreat, a little blast of sunshine blessed me. I wilted with pleasure and thanked God for it.
As I nibbled at my sandwich and let my senses drink in the grandness of my surroundings, from a stand of thick pines came the distinctive whine of bagpipes. After a few priming notes, an invisible piper filled the air with Amazing Grace. Its notes drifted over the water. Quickly tourists gathered on deck, arms wrapped tightly round their trembling bodies. A few walkers broke stride to stand and listen. I didn't speak with the other lookiers but I shared with them a sacred moment on a bleak October day. Tears flowed behind my sunglasses as I remembered the generosity of His grace to me. In my notebook, I wrote -
One day I will stand with throngs of people I don’t know and together we’ll applaud His amazing grace.
What message is October sending you?
The Promise of Home and Listening to My Hair Grow. Watch for her new book, He Loves Me Not . . . He Loves Me, the story of a transformed marriage, co-authored with Sandra Nunn.