Hours. Some of them are just plain tough. Your emotions are brittle. Your eyes, gushers. Your stability, crumbly. Your assurance, wasted. Your heart…well, let’s just not go there.
Hours. They become days. Weeks. At least. Then what?
Before then, this (from my reading this morning):
In the day when I cried thou answeredst me, and strengthenedst me with strength in my soul.
The Lord will perfect that which concerneth me: thy mercy, O Lord, endureth for ever: forsake not the works of thine own hands.
Then I thought of these:
From the end of the earth will I cry unto thee, when my heart is overwhelmed: lead me to the rock that is higher than I.
Thou wilt shew me the path of life: in thy presence is fulness of joy; at thy right hand there are pleasures for evermore.
As I compose this, I’m thinking of two of you in particular. Three, actually. And remembering myself as well. Continue reading