Bright morning sunshine filtered through a blanket opens my eyes, warming my skin. A chorus of birds sings loud and strong. The mountains are crisp against a blue sky laced with tattered clouds. Alighting in my favorite chair I spy golden-orange and deep coral roses, newly bloomed. After my reading I flip back through my book of gifts when I see it. 179. snakes hidden from sight, and there a few days later, 198. not being bit by the scary rattlesnake. A mere nineteen gifts listed between the thanks for protecting me from my fears to thanks for bringing me through my fears. This is poignant to me because there are other pairs in this journal, my list begun before my heart was shattered. Oblations before and after the breaking. Thank You for giving me this gift, this hope and preserving it, followed not long after by thank You for tears and comfort and hope in Your goodness in a season of loss. First the gratitude that He has kept me from danger and pain followed by the gratitude that He has kept me through danger and pain. This pairing of praises, the offering and the sacrifice, is it always the way?
And then quickly, so quickly, clouds move in hiding the sun, obscuring the mountains. The birds react, muffling, but when no rain arrives they again pick up their song. A chill breeze billows through the still open windows. As I sit paying (or more to the point not paying) my bills the grey clouds my vision as well. I pick up my journal; write a hard thank you, one I’m not sure I even believe. The impotence frightening, I long to lash out, harsh words to untroubled souls I find hard to keep back, so I flee to my room to release a torrent of tears. Muffling sobs, I sit with the fear, the helplessness, the hopelessness, the envy and the pain. Kleenex piles up next to me as I type to find rest when tears are not enough. How can He bring me through this? How long must I wait? Where is my sacrifice of praise? I find it very hard to bring to my lips. Outside of my bedroom window a dark magenta rose fluffs out its petals and lifts its face skyward to the sun I cannot see. 135. my bills are all paid this month!……281. a bill not paid, yet-opportunity for You to stretch my faith 282. words when tears are not enough