Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer

Mother used to say,

“Red sky at morning, sailors take warning;
red sky at night, sailor’s delight.”

Not that we were sailors. We were not. We were farmers. But farmers get to see those red skies hemming the horizon because they’re up early in the morning and away from crowded buildings where the scenery is simply earth and sky.

Apparently, the nautical saying is about two thousand years old and credited to mariners. But I wonder if the Maker of the sun coined the idea that seafaring men lived by.

Religious leaders of Jesus’s day asked Him for a sign from heaven, and He gave them the precursor of the sailor’s rhyme.

“When it is evening you say, ‘it will be fair weather, for the sky is red;’ and in the morning, ‘it will be foul weather today, for the sky is red and threatening.’ Hypocrites! You know how to discern the face of the sky, but you cannot discern the signs of the times” (Matthew 16:2-3).

God speaks to us through His handiwork as well as His Word and by His Holy Spirit. If we pay attention to what’s going on around us in creation, we can see and hear what He’s telling us.

Yet so often we don’t. We’re too busy doing life. Too distracted to notice.

Psalm 33:4 tells us:

For the Word of the Lord is right,
And all His work is done in truth.

God does not contradict Himself.

What is He telling you through His glorious sunrises and sunsets during this season of Thanksgiving?

Has He helped you “discern the face of the sky” or “the signs of the times”?

For what will you give Him thanks this year?

~

Comment below on your thanks and be entered in a random drawing for a free e-book copy of my #HolidayRomance, A Thorn in Winter’s Grasp. Entries close November 28, 2025.

After supper, the housekeeper went up to her room with a bed warmer full of hot coals, and the children settled on the braided hearth rug near Hope’s chair, awaiting a story. With Thanksgiving so near, Hope wanted them to focus on gratitude, but Randy kept turning his head toward the kitchen.

“What is it?” Hope finally asked.

“Do you hear that? The dogs are barking.”

“They always bark,” his older brother Topher said.

Randy stood. “Not like that. I’m gonna go see.”

“I’m scared,” little Bert said as she scooted closer to Hope.

“Wait, Randy. Let me get a coat and I’ll go with you.” Hope turned to Bert. You go upstairs and knock on Miss Connie’s door. Tell her that the boys and I are going out to check on the dogs.”

Several coats hung on hooks in the back entryway, with heavy boots lined up against the wall. Hope chose one she had seen the children’s grandfather wear, then went back to the hearth for his shotgun and four shells from his desk drawer.

Topher and Randy were staring at her from the kitchen door when she returned.

She dropped the shells in her coat pocket and made sure the gun was loaded. “You can never be too careful, my mama always said.”

The dogs were indeed barking, but at what? And where? The barn?

Storm clouds had fled with daylight, and a cold moon shone down on the sparkling yard and outbuildings as Hope and the boys made their way to the barn. The pastured cattle were calm—no bawling or shuffling—and Hope took that as a good sign. No rustlers.

She opened the barn door just enough to slip inside with the boys. A lantern hung nearby, and she lit it with a match from her coat pocket. That’s when she heard it.

She raised the lantern toward the hay loft, and a throaty snarl met the light that reflected off two wide-set eyes. ~A Thorn in Winter’s Grasp

Inspirational Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.

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