HOPE TAKES A STORMY HIT
No sooner had I penned this hopeful post about the sun rising on our morning commute than the storms started to hit. Aaron remained beastly, even though he's been on antibiotics for five days now (usually he returns to the land of the pleasant by day two or three), Amy's illnesses worsened, and I woke up in the middle of the night feeling unusually nauseous, to the point that I actually threw up for the first time in over a decade.
And so not 24 hours after walking Jada to work and feeling my spirits soaring, I was groggily trudging the two of them to day care under much more adverse internal and external circumstances. If you're following the World Series, you know we've had lousy weather all today. And the elements seemed to match my countenance: dark, dreary, unrelenting, and too much to hardly bear.
Again, another song came to mind, and while I didn't sing it as cheerily as yesterday's, I did sing it: "When darkness hides His lovely face, I rest on His unchanging grace; in every high and stormy gale, my anchor holds within the veil. On Christ the solid rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand; all other ground is sinking sand." Hope may take a stormy hit now and then, but, however weak and battered we may feel, we can keep on singing.
No sooner had I penned this hopeful post about the sun rising on our morning commute than the storms started to hit. Aaron remained beastly, even though he's been on antibiotics for five days now (usually he returns to the land of the pleasant by day two or three), Amy's illnesses worsened, and I woke up in the middle of the night feeling unusually nauseous, to the point that I actually threw up for the first time in over a decade.
And so not 24 hours after walking Jada to work and feeling my spirits soaring, I was groggily trudging the two of them to day care under much more adverse internal and external circumstances. If you're following the World Series, you know we've had lousy weather all today. And the elements seemed to match my countenance: dark, dreary, unrelenting, and too much to hardly bear.
Again, another song came to mind, and while I didn't sing it as cheerily as yesterday's, I did sing it: "When darkness hides His lovely face, I rest on His unchanging grace; in every high and stormy gale, my anchor holds within the veil. On Christ the solid rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand; all other ground is sinking sand." Hope may take a stormy hit now and then, but, however weak and battered we may feel, we can keep on singing.
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