Whenever I see pigeons, I think of my dad. He loved to raise the racing variety. There were times when he would put several in a cage, drive a long way off and release them. Over the next day or so, he’d spend time sitting on the well house watching the sky for their safe return. Sometimes, I’d join him. I admired his patience. But mostly, I enjoyed his presence. More often than not, he’d eventually see his pigeons in the distance. A broad smile would break across his face, and he’d point toward the sky. It was then I’d hear him whisper, ”They’re home.”
Perhaps, there is someone you need to release into God’s care and trust him for their return.
