Just reading my Bible affords me plenty of both drama and trauma. The next drama....the one where we are whisked up in the twinkling of an eye...will be the Granddaddy of them all. My soul is "groaning"...more some days than others. ...depending upon the level of the pain in my back. Yesterday I created a heck of a lot of pain in my back. That is trauma, and I did it to myself. I went grocery shopping for a few items and came back with a truckload. This morning I finished carrying them all in. ... and now my back is screaming and I am actually chuckling as I grimace. Some predispositions in our DNA never go away. My mother and my grandmother canned their bodies into their graves, lining up row upon row of jars of vegetables and fruits in the cellar cave. ...for all eventualities: guests, tornadoes, blizzards, dust storms, torrential rains or no rain. Many guests were drawn to my mother's table, as they are to mine. It feels SO good to have more than enough food at all times. Am I thankful? Of course! Ted and I have been in many countries where people by the millions are hungry.
Is there a famine coming? Possibly. In my lifetime? Possibly. Is Jesus coming? Yes. In my lifetime? Possibly. What does He tell me to do? ...Work! All six of my grandchildren are either working hard to complete their educations or are working at their jobs. I am proud of all of them, for they understand the biblical principle: "If you don't work, you don't eat!"
I lay on my deck bed as the sun came up this morning and watched a silvery plane skim across the sky high above my head, and wondered: "Where are they going?" "What is the drama or trauma in the lives of the passengers that is taking them lickety split from somewhere to somewhere?"
Well, on to water aerobics to work out the pain in my back that I could have prevented, but didn't. ...then to come home, flip on the TV, listen a bit to the Convention, then begin to think on Friday night's Singalong outside at the golf shop. The last one drew a mix of people who have found the Bread and some who haven't. As night settled over us, the six who came up the mountain from Bakersfield began to sing hymns in harmony. I quit playing and the rest of us listened. The God-hush brought us peacefully to the end of another week of personal dramas and traumas.
...and now, a requested hymn from Mike S.: BLESSED ASSURANCE.
Blessed Assurance. Jesus is mine. Oh, what a foretaste of glory divine.
Heir of salvation; purchase of God. Born of His Spirit, washed in His blood.
Perfect submission, perfect delight. Visions of rapture now burst on my sight;
Angels descending, bring from above echoes of mercy, whispers of love.
Perfect submission, all is at rest. I in my Saviour am happy and blest;
Watching and waiting, looking above. Filled with His goodness; lost in His love.
THIS IS MY STORY; THIS IS MY SONG. PRAISING MY SAVIOUR ALL THE DAY LONG
THIS IS MY STORY, THIS IS MY SONG, PRAISING MY SAVIOUR ALL THE DAY LONG.
What's your favorite?
What's your favorite?
Love, Jo