It was beautiful yesterday, with skies as blue as Paul Newman's eyes.
I visited the Theodosia Marina, where a mature old sycamore stands tall, its white branches bright against the sky.
At my feet, a piece of sloughed off bark caught my attention, the back side crisscrossed with insect pathways.
When I was a kid, my neighbor friends and I used to pretend that these were ancient maps that would tell us the way to hidden treasures.
We don't always get blue skies in this life, nor clear maps to guide us.
One of my Mother's favorite songs, by Annie Johnson Flint, was "God Hath Not Promised Skies Always Blue".
It holds great truths for any generation:
God hath not promised skies always blue,
Flower strewn pathways all our lives through;
God hath not promised sun without rain,
Joy without sorrow, peace without pain.
God hath not promised smooth roads and wide,
Swift, easy travel, needing no guide;
Never a mountain rocky and steep,
Never a river turbid and deep.
But God hath promised strength for the day,
Rest for the labor, light for the way,
Grace for the trials, help from above,
Unfailing kindness, undying love.
Perhaps we've found those hidden treasures, after all.
First published 1/29/11
Linking with Skywatch Friday