Harboring

Another heart-filling weekend is over and I sit here on a Monday night listening to the closer-coming thunder and wondering why I haven't accomplished as much as I wanted to today. And here comes the rain like a curtain of chorded darkness. What could be looked on as a wet gloom, feels more like a cleansing flood and I am at rest. As I am at a harbor, with the sea-swept horizon up by my ears and the salt on my toes. Parched sails are set against the sapphire and emerald of the afternoon. 

Sleep wasn't much on the agenda last week, one of the sillier reasons being that I stayed up late Thursday night to watch Will and Kate get married in front of the entire world. It was a gorgeous wedding... I loved the trees lining Westminster Abbey, and the ocean of hats, and the music of bells and choirs filling the vaulted cathedral. 

It has been a time of learning how to trust God. I can't quite see the path in front of me, but I know that I need to keep journeying on. I have the feeling that I'm in a protective harbor, and I know that there's a world of waves and stormy seas out there. I know this because some of the waves make it over the barrier sometimes. But still I am safe from harm. And still the day may come when my sailboat arrives to take me home.