Daily Archives: September 11, 2018

OLD BAG OF WIND

When that old bag of wind Florence decides to come for a visit – uninvited, I might add, one puts their “normal” Monday activities on hold and begins the process of battening down the hatches on the home front.

Plants moved indoors. Yard decorations cleaned and stored in garage. Fire pit burned and emptied. Wind chimes silenced. Trash hauled. Lawn chairs and tables debated over and finally just up-ended. The rest – oh well – I’ll just have to wait and see how Florence wants to redecorate.

Tonight, after I picked up the Grands from school, and listened to them laugh and plan for maybe getting a day off at the end of the week just because Florence might be coming for a visit, I laughed as well. I walked around the yard and just smiled as I enjoyed Our Father’s presence.

“The LORD himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.”~Deut 31:8

Florence may be coming. She may huff and puff and blow our house and trees and little wires that most of us don’t know how to live without. She may dump a bunch of water that she doesn’t need anymore – and yet – – 
and yet – – 
all in all – – 
it is just stuff that she is blowing and dumping all over. Except for my critters and family, it is just stuff.

We fill our lives with lots of stuff, little treasures “stuffed” here and there (ever wonder where that verb came from?), bigger things that fill buildings with their importance, pictures of memories that are already stored in our heads, and things that we don’t even remember having in the first place.

Tonight’s sunset brought the darkness of the second day in the Jewish High Holy Days. A new day to think about where I’ve been and where I want to go. A day to wonder what I’ve done to enhance His kingdom on earth, and what I’ve done that might have caused a stumbling block to others.

A moment – this moment – to ponder.

So tonight, as I look out into the darkness, I sniff the wet humid air, listen to the thunder that generally foretells the coming of storms in our lives, and seek my knees. 
Knees that groan in protest. 
Knees that resent this position. 
Knees that remind me: life is not easy.

I find I am praying for Florence, Olivia, Issac – that their visits are quick and painless as they blow through farms, hamlets and cities. Praying for the emergency workers who always respond during these times and stand in the gap for the rest of us. Praying for the wildfires that still rage and the fire workers who stand in the gap there. Pray for the people, the animals and crops, the nations, the world. Praying for things that I know not.

And as I pray, I remember the words that Billy Graham’s mother once wrote to her struggling son:

“Son, there are many times when God withdraws to test your faith. He wants you to trust Him in the darkness. Now, Son, reach up by faith in the fog, and you will find that His hand will be there.”~Morrow Graham, Billy Graham’s mother.

I think before I go to bed tonight and before that old bag of wind gets here, I will venture out on our small porch and reach out my hand into the darkness.    

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