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Tuesday, 2 February 2021

Weary

 

Yesterday’s snowscape that greeted me when I opened the curtains was glorious, beautifully backlit by a weak sun hanging low on the horizon still.

This morning, the sun is not there. The bleak midwinter lies still, unforgiving. There is a hardness in the stark white, a hardness in the frozen, bare branches, a hardness that elicits an inner sigh.  Groundhog Day today, and I am weary of the repetitiveness of everything right now. I don’t think I am alone in my weariness.

I look into my Bible for a pep talk. ‘I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in his word I put my hope. My soul waits for the Lord more than watchmen wait for the morning, more than watchmen wait for the morning.’

God answers. ‘Put your hope in the Lord, for with the Lord is unfailing love.’

The sun is obscured by a curtain of cloud. But it is still there. My soul waits for the Lord more than watchmen wait for the morning, more than watchmen wait for the morning.

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