From my truck I see kayak racks: looks like it’s time for a road trip South.
From our flagstone patio I see the bluest hue of sky that comes with the chill of this season.
From my jewelry studio comes the reflections of many table lamps bouncing off the walls as I strain to create, to sew, to knot into the night.
From our bed I ponder this life as the hours pass in the dark, in the light since the popcorn ceiling never made any sense when I tried to connect the dots up there anyways.
From lying on the kitchen floor I cover my eyes and cradle my head to minimize the brightness of the nickel light fixture, the damage from the internal unrest tossing me about, and the discomfort from not making it to the bed in time. The pup sniffing my hair is sweet indeed.
And when I look up from my heart to my mind’s eye I see my Lord who whispers His words of comfort that this strife too shall pass. He makes all things new don’t you know and this happens whether we can see it, feel it, find it in this fleeting moment of a day. This is where I must persevere as I never cease to look beyond today to a better tomorrow. It must come. It will come! Oh yes, it does.
Psalm 121 (NIV)
A song of ascents.
1 I lift up my eyes to the mountains—
where does my help come from?
2 My help comes from the Lord,
the Maker of heaven and earth.
3 He will not let your foot slip—
he who watches over you will not slumber;
4 indeed, he who watches over Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.
5 The Lord watches over you—
the Lord is your shade at your right hand;
6 the sun will not harm you by day,
nor the moon by night.
7 The Lord will keep you from all harm—
he will watch over your life;
8 the Lord will watch over your coming and going
both now and forevermore.
Jesus is for the Wounded 