I have been a puddle of late. A wet, messy, saturating puddle. And you know as I do that puddles creep, growing with moisture that is gathered at the edges. Where does this puddle come from? I cast gratitude heavenward with heart eyes for the answer to this morning cry...
Father, it is early. The day has really not begun, yet I am overwhelmed by the tasks. I can't hear you. I can't feel you. Speak! Draw near. I want to learn...
I am thankful for a God who sometimes answers with questions...
Tell me, Beloved, how it can be that one soul's misery contributes to the refining of another?
Puzzling, and foreboding, yes. But the day that followed brought clarity to His words.
To read more from today's post at CWO's Internet Cafe...
Father, it is early. The day has really not begun, yet I am overwhelmed by the tasks. I can't hear you. I can't feel you. Speak! Draw near. I want to learn...
I am thankful for a God who sometimes answers with questions...
Tell me, Beloved, how it can be that one soul's misery contributes to the refining of another?
Puzzling, and foreboding, yes. But the day that followed brought clarity to His words.
To read more from today's post at CWO's Internet Cafe...
