A voice calling at the back door (because the doorbell doesn’t
work…). ‘Stuck in the mud. Help!’
Walking each other home is a lot like getting stuck in the
mud sometimes. Here we are again, with inaccurate measurements on room
lay-outs, trying to figure out scales and convert from inches to metric. I
threw out my careful measurements of the furniture taken before the last move,
so we are left trying to figure it from the floor plan…
It’s obviously a smaller room, but how much smaller, and
which pieces will need to go this time?
Frustration threatens us, cat-calling from the side-lines as
we struggle to stay in God’s peace. Yet his peace does continue to remain deep
within me, a peace which I didn’t have with the last move.
God knows what he is doing. There is a lot of effort being
expended in keeping Mom safe and happy, but God still has a plan for her here
on earth or she would no longer be with us. Her days are numbered by him, and
while there are more to run, his purpose for her is not yet complete.
She is a blessing still, imparting encouraging words to her
granddaughter when she seeks advice. Yes, perhaps the memory is slipping, but
the smile is still broad and the faith in God remains intact.
If we are stuck in the mud, repeating what we just did,
there is a good reason for it. Thank God that I am not in charge.
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