I love a particular print in my office. (It was my mother's so it has special significance to me.)
A prim little girl, her hair parted in the middle and formed into braids that curl around her ears (think Princess Leia), kneels on a bench--the paint of which is scuffed and marred.
A delicate red-breasted blue bird, his beak opened in song, perches on a branch-let of a white birch sapling, the bark of which is also scuffed and marred.
As he rhapsodizes, the girl listens with rapt attention, an audience of one.
Yet there is One who watches over them both, One who knows the number of hairs in the little girl's braids and One who feeds the birds of the air. No matter how scuffed and marred our circumstances may be, we are never alone and we are never without His presence.
I find this comforting. Do you?
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