God's love is meteoric, his loyalty astronomic.
His purpose titanic, his verdicts oceanic.
Yet in His largeness nothing gets lost;
Not a man, not a mouse, slips through the cracks.
How exquisite your love, O God!
How eager we are to run under your wings.
The Harvest Moon had done it's thing: impressing millions with it's beauty.
I walked to the middle of the street to see it one last time.
As I turned to go back into the house, I saw the sun shinning at the opposite end of the street.
The moon to the east.
The sun to the west.
And me, right in the middle.
Me in the middle, being hugged by God.
And I needed that hug.
I needed to be reminded that it's true . . .
"Yet in His largeness nothing gets lost;
Not a man, not a mouse, slips through the cracks."
And that includes me.