Changing Seasons, But a Changeless God

These days the early morning air has a different feel to it. Fresh. Crisp. With hints of

forthcoming frost.

Almost overnight, it seems, the marigolds in our neighbor’s garden have become a

striking contrast to the fading fruit on nearby tomato plants. It won’t be long before the maple

tree outside my office window puts on its annual display of orange and gold.

Fall has arrived here in southeast Nebrask…