Some of you may have noticed that I haven’t posted in awhile. A ten-day siege of kidney stones. Thank you for morphine. But the effects of that palliative plus other drugs have left me feeling, well, drugged. It’s now morphed into the flu. That’s why I’ve been absent, but some of you have checked in every day. For that, thanks.
So, I missed most of the big writers conference this past week. I lasted an hour before going home. My hopes of meeting with editors to get help or acceptance of my manuscript—all was lost in a fog of physical pain. It was a disappointment, to be sure. But not something I’d consider unfair. Some of you live with physical pain, incurable disease, grief, hateful relatives, abandonment, or mobility problems every day of your lives.
My wife and I, sitting on our back deck this evening, re-visited events of the week. As we listened to night sounds and watched a tree frog march resolutely up a nearby oak, she shared her joy that a client began to show mighty progress against a painful childhood. Then she expressed disappointment that another lady had reverted back to ranting about old hurts. Back into the hole.
I mostly listened and watched the frog. I wondered if it had any idea where it was going, and if it knew why. I had little to say; my week had been a psychedelic of astonishing dreams, sharp pain, sleeplessness, nausea and other experiences I didn’t care to re-visit.
By the time the tree frog had advanced twelve feet above the ground, dusk took him from view. I won’t fret about the fate of the little green frog but I’ll wonder about the two ladies. Both will need to look to the future—not on the past.
The sooner we get our focus on Jesus, the Author and Finisher of our faith, the better our lives will be. He has a plan for our lives–a plan that can overcome, even when high-jacked by unseen circumstances.
By the way, how’s your climb?