Saturday Morning

Holy God of Israel,
Thank you for the gift of this morning. I look outside and there is ice covering everything, and I am so grateful to be inside. So many are stranded outside, forever in search of a warm place to live and a fire to warm their feet by; remind me of how grateful I am called to be, and what I am to do with that gratitude. Turn my thankfulness into holy living, living devoted to you.
Your beauty hangs from the trees this morning, and it is written across the handrail on our deck. It sparkles as the light dances across its surface, and from somewhere deep within it is singing your praises. You are the one who writes love into the ice, who speaks through the lingering fog, who creates and enjoys. You are the one who has written your name across the stars and through the grass; you are the one who has left your calling card in the nook of every tree and in the song of every bird. You are the one to whom I cry out, "Praise and joy and wonder and thanksgiving and power and might!" You are the one to whom I cry out in my silent prayers. You are the one to whom I pray, sing and dance. You are the one I am grateful for, now and forever.
Amen.