A Great Blue Heron has been perching at the end of our dock lately, so I decided to try to get close enough for a picture. He kept a wary eye on me as I crept closer, finally taking off with his long wings as Ben came clumping down to join me in his dad’s big shoes.

I’ve been blessed to have spent 2020 in this beautiful place, watching the world’s chaos from a great distance. But Covid has finally taken root in our town and is spreading rapidly. So those of us most at risk pull back, sheltering from the wave that is now upon us, grieving once again the loss of presence. A dear friend just left home in an ambulance and fear crouches in the corner, waiting.

“Hey, bird!” Ben calls, then tugs on my hand to come back inside to fix his breakfast. I reach for him, absorbing his innocence, choosing not to scold him for chasing the bird from our dock.

Give me this day, Lord, my daily bread. A glimpse of you in your words, in my soul, in the sight of a heron lifting on silent wings into the cool morning. Let your goodness seep into my spirit before the weight of this life settles in my throat, that hard lump that comes with news of fires and floods, violence and pandemic. In a thousand little ways I look for you to meet me here.

Together Ben and I watch the heron glide across the lake and I lift my weary soul to the One who holds me close, who holds us all if we allow it; the One who sees beyond the heron’s flight into the coming day.