Moments

My mother is old, quite ill, incoherent, in pain, and still she lingers partly in life; partly in death. In response I fret, eat too much, worry, remember, and become conflictive to incompetent caregivers. What a time to go through; sick at heart and mind. But, in the midst of this haze of despair there is opportunity for witness. What difference does my faith have in how I go through this? What difference has God made? It is a time, an opportunity, to prove; to witness, that indeed, He is able: able to keep me from falling though I stumble. And some who have heard me proclaim my faith will be watching to see if faith fails or is lived out, to see what difference God has made? My troubled times could be my best witness; my finest hour for God. Do I "know how to be abased and how to abound?" Or, do I just know how to talk about it? Do "I know how to be hungry and how to be full?" Or is my allegiance just a Christian tattoo that I wear on my skin but not hold...

Just like the resurrection, Hope rose with the dawn. The Texas weather is at its worse as far as I am concerned: heat and stifling humidity for at least the next eight weeks. But Hope survives the heat. And I feel good about the future though it be quite uncertain. Perhaps that Hope is spawned by what I have prayed for most recently: a closer walk with God. I sense that in a way I cannot explain. I know it with a certainty beyond mere reasoning. Ah yes, there it is: Faith; I can know but not understand; "the peace that passeth all understanding." When God comes close so does an unexplainable Hope