Looking up

I am very, very tired. I feel oddly alone. Last night I spent the night struggling for breath, exhausting my home remedies. Probably pneumonia, just guessing. I head for the doctor this afternoon once I have a sitter and a ride. Too tired to go myself with all the kids, or pack them up to get them elsewhere.

A friend of a friend recently went through a crisis that set me thinking again about all God has carried me through in the last 12 years. Got me thinking that, no matter how dirty life around me is today, no matter how frazzled, or worn, or frustrated, the view always improves when I look up.



O Lord, You have searched me and known me.
You know my sitting down and my rising up;
You understand my thought afar off.
You comprehend my path and my lying down,
and are acquainted with all my ways.
For there is not a word on my tongue,
but behold, O LORD, You know it altogether.
You have hedged me behind and before,
and laid Your hand upon me.
~ Psalm 139:1-4 ~

The photos are from one of my favorite places on earth. Taken from the ground, looking straight up into some perfectly ordinary and not even particularly antique grain silos at the York horse farm. My focus today is on keeping my body as still as possible so as not to disturb whatever has settled in my lungs; and looking up instead of down. The vista is bound to be infinitely more beautiful up there! There is a beautiful turquoise sky in Wisconsin today, and a Savior bent to listen. Wherever you are today, note the color of the sky and make sure you direct some words to the Christ who today knelt in Gethsemane and sweat blood in His fear and dislike for the task before Him. My tasks today are so much less gruesome. I am thankful His verdict was, "Lord, if thou be willing, take this cup from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but thine be done." (Luke 22:42) May that be on my lips today as well.

2 comments:

Dusty Chris said...

I think those who have suffered much gain much. The deepest, most precious people in my life are the ones who have had to "look up." I know what it is like to be weary to my bones having a child that requires around the clock monitoring for 18 years...And I pray for peaceful, rejuvenating rest for you.

Anonymous said...

thank you for the reminder of Christ's agony in the garden

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