I walked to fellowship through a rain-whisked world, under a scraggly sky, envious trees dripping with little droplets of rain water and I wondered at how life could pass so fast. How rain could fall and I didn't notice. I think I'm passing through life through blissfully my writing is almost never sad or pained...do I feel too little? I told Andrew I worry that I am living too happily, and one day all the sadness I've pushed away will wash over me like a tidal wave.
Psalm 39 (the fellowship devo passage that night which I thought was wonderfully apt)
"...You have made my day a mere handbreadth; the span of my years is as nothing before you. Each man's life is but a breath..."
(P.S. I didn't go to a museum last week, nor did I bake...but I did go to a thrift shop)
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