The life of a nomad. Sigh.
It is currently 2 AM. The house is silent except for the clock ticking. My husband, sick with tonsilitis, retired several hours ago.
Our time in Odessa is up. The boxes are out. The U-haul awaits.
I have one whole day ahead of me to gather, find, clean, pack, and shut.
My brain spins madly--details, laundry, space. Where will it all go?
So now, I write this blog and try to train my tumbling thoughts into peaceful silence.
Amidst the brouhaha of lists, plans, cases and stuff I need to sit at His feet. Hear His voice. Rest my head on His knee.
And be reminded. Of why we do all this packing and moving around. (pause)
His compelling gift.
Our extreme gratitude for it. Our desire to tell someone else. Our longing, that is His, for all to accept it.
Can packing be that noble? :-)
Nope.
But He is.
Our "worth it all" King.
Who now calls me to rest for awhile...
1 comment:
Hey Cheryl,
The prayers of the Maxwell's are with you. It was crazy of us to move the once not to mention from Africa to Oregon, Oregon to West Texas, West Texas to East Texas, and then East Texas back to Africa. Know that with your Lord all things are possible.
Here are a few words of encourage from Kirk Frankiln. He of course is writting about Jesus and I agree, but there are a lot of here, stateside, that feel this way about you Cash's. Thank you for putting yourselves through it and we love you.
(Without You) life's a song with no end
Without You, like having a heart that won't mend
Without You, we're just actors on a stage
Like a child who's lost his way
Wouldn't be here today without You -Kirk Franklin
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