Good morning, DearHeart.
Our mailboxes look strange – almost covered in a drift! Hopefully, our mail-servants know we value their safety over our mail. It can wait.
Lately I’ve been reading all things to do with sustainable agriculture, homesteading, nature, wildlife, following permaculture & gardening blogs, and such. I read this, and it stuck:
“There are two spiritual dangers in not owning a farm. One is the danger of supposing that breakfast comes from the grocery, and the other that heat comes from the furnace.” Aldo Leopold, ‘A Sand County Almanac’.
It hit home, especially with Levi and Bryan and their crews working all night in this weather to help keep oil and gas flowing so we can get warm. This bitter weather is wreaking havoc on all of nature, and routines, and families … it impacts us individually, as well … physically … mentally.
Sometimes, I look back on the events of my life to be reminded of the grace that has come from the harshest seasons … every single time. What is it, I wonder, that is triggered when we endure great suffering? What kind of God is so absolute in His faithfulness, that in the most difficult, from the darkest of days, we can rest assured (in our inner-turmoil) that our Creator has a plan for our redemption … especially when we are at
the breaking point,
the I can’t do this another day point,
the “God, I need a miracle” point,
the point of being frozen and broken and hurt and empty?
My God.
That’s what kind of God will do that. Mine. He is that faithful. That’s why I believe. He has proven, over and over that I can trust Him every single time; because He has a plan
every. single. time.
Even when, like the mailboxes, I feel like I’m about to be overcome by a huge drift.
“let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering; for He who promised is faithful.” Hebrews 10:23
Wake up.
Press on.
God’s got a plan.
Go.