It has been unseasonably cold here this winter. Colder, longer. Wind chill temperatures several mornings in the single digits. Creatures struggling against the elements.

One of the coldest days, under a favorite fleece blanket for warmth, I spent my morning in my favorite spot overlooking our backyard. Starkness. Cold.  Sleet. Grey skies. Leafless branches.

A lone squirrel sat on the lip of our bird bath. Not an unusual sight for a squirrel to be lapping up water to quench his thirst, especially after running up and down and around the trunk of our huge pecan tree.

But today was different, there was no water. He wasn’t drinking, just sitting, staring. Other squirrels, and birds, had given up quickly and left thirsty, but not this little guy. He was stubborn. Determined. (I saw him on three different occasions in case you think I am making this up!)

And then I suppose it hit him . . .

His head turned downward, teeth chomping and little paws picking up small chunks of ice! Rising on his haunches, holding the frozen tidbits up to his mouth, eating the morsels, satisfying his body’s need for water . . .

Are we that determined when we come to the well of our Lord to drink in spiritual sustenance? Or do we come to the lip – of prayer, intercession, confession, praise, supplication, or need – feel alone, maybe sense a distance, get distracted, or decide it’s too hard and walk away?

Or do we come expecting to be fully satisfied, believing as in Psalm 84:10 that . . . better is one day in the {presence} of the Lord than a thousand elsewhere. 

Are we moved to praise, worship: My soul longs, even yearns for the {presence} of the Lord. My heart and my flesh sing for joy to the living God. Ps 84:2

Willing to do the work sometimes needed . . .  standing, kneeling, asking, listening, waiting, trusting . . . even in hard times?

O God, thank you that you provided a way through Jesus to access your presence.

Thank you that you call us unto yourself, accept us as your children, promise us living water for all eternity, offer your Spirit to live in and move among us. And thank you that your satisfy our thirst in a way nothing else could ever match . . . whether seemingly warm and flowing, or frozen and beckoning.