I’m tempted to get lost.
Roll with the punches.
Except that, I don’t want to get punched. Or do what happens to get, not just one, but a second or a third.
I know that this can come with the territory–that is why there is the turn the other cheek lesson, in print, in thousands of languages. So that we know. We know not to repay sin with sin.
I have a choice. To be swallowed by the storm or to stand under the sheltering wing. I’m not much of a wing fan, but I can be a chicken.
Pathetic puns out of the way….
It is not Monday but there is a hard eucharisteo getting stuck in my throat. The only way out is a spiritual heimlich maneuver.
*time for a bath before work
*berries and books
*freshly baked bread
*coffee with the girls
*knowing again that God loves more than I ever can
*seeing my lesson light up the face of someone hurting
*a broken fast
*laws that can’t be kept by a sinner–chief of all them, me
It all comes down to this. While I am looking up, and looking around to see and know that God is.right.here!, I notice that my deepest gratitude is not that God is bigger than the storm. (As blasphemous as it sounds.)
I am grateful that He HEARS me in the storm. He chooses to listen. For my voice is small and weak. Not everyone likes to hear my voice as I choke out the words that say I am hurt and afraid. God does. He hears.
Then there is the icing (the ganache actually, if you were to see the photo in my mind). He hears and ultimately He is the only one with the power to change the storm.