I stood at the kitchen sink.
Early this morning — just before (or was it just after?) five.
Carefully slurping hot coffee.
Looking out the window.
Drearily considering the circumstances.
Pleading with God.
Trying to have faith.
(Drearily, God, faith — is something out of place there?!) 😯
When I noticed what I was seeing:
Somewhere down there in the Pudding River bottoms are cows.
In the fog.
They can’t see clearly.
For all they know, the whole world is foggy, bleary, dreary.
But the rising sun will fix that in short order.
Can I believe that God sees me and my fog in remotely similar fashion?
Can I believe that the Risen Son will fix my problems?
Sure.
I’m thankful.