there's this early bit of morning when the trees ripple gold and the grass is quiet, unwrinkled, and the day seems possible.
and then there's the actual day. :)
it's easy to see God in the quiver of bulrushes, effortless to spot Him in a tatted cotton sky. what's not so painless is to search Him out in the desolate places, to trust His goodness and enough-ness when everything i touch comes up dust.
but right now i'm hoping at the top of my lungs (again) with mandi mapes:
whom have i when my heart begins to fail when sorrow fills the streets and sounds of death prevail Jesus is my hope and i know He stills the wind so take my very life away as long as i get Him
so let the sky fall down and earth and cities quake and i'll say of my God and King Lord, blessed be Your name.
He's still here. He's still mine. blessed be Your name.