This morning when I slipped out of the house early, just after sunrise to bring in the beets pulled at dark last night, the rising sun was lighting the straw bales, all golden and round. The new day was dawning on a new season and all the goodness of summer was wrapped and rolled and laid down all over the field. Soft circular shapes glowed here and there, signalling to all who looked that the harvest was over and gathered in on this parcel of land.
And I was reminded of all the goodness He wraps and lays down for me, all over my days. Bales of grace, wrapped in eucharisteo, laid in rows of gratitude. The moment was golden as the light reached into my soul and the sounds of geese honking trumpeted my thanks heavenward.