Every morning since then -- well, every afternoon too -- Actually, anytime I enter the room -- I check on the little ones. My first concern is for them. Oh, I still love my sleek orange babies, and the fluttering guppy with their tails and all... But, it's the little ones I look for first. I count one, two, three, four... three, four, and five. You have to count carefully.
And this morning I wonder if God isn't a little like that. Just after getting up and stretching, maybe a few Sun Salutations, the Almighty looks down on a small blue speck and counts the little ones, the most likely to have been eaten, or sucked up by the (filtration) system. Does God count? Is God's joy in the smallest, the ones which are hard to see, hidden for safety in the tall grass? I kind of think so. And it makes me want to hide in tall grass too.
So the poor have hope, and injustice shuts its mouth.