Fro Glory

There is nothing softer than my children's freshly shorn hair there spread out on the floor.  Everytime I sweep it up I touch it just to marvel at it's softness.  Three different types of hair -- thick and straight, curly and thin, and blonde feathers... when the Lord's blessings are full to overflowing, overflowing like this hair on the floor.  There is so much of it it's almost this mess of blessings.  What am I to do with it all??? 

I spend much of my time caring for my blessings, and gathering up the abundance of them to give away so that we have room to walk in our home.  I have never known a love such as this.



Now if I walk outside beneath the beauty of the trees, the feel of the soft grass on my feet, the caress and smell of the unbiased breeze, and get into my man-made car and curse God for a flat tire I get that He did not divinely and graciously manifest me a miracle in reconnected treads, and think, "forget Him.  He doesn't exist anyway"...  it is then I fail to see that He held it together with His finger until I got off the interstate with my children in the car.

What is my knowledge, and how omnipotent am I that I could possibly judge what is, and what is not, fair?  How could I possibly think I know all of the things that should go on in a mind?  Who am I that, no matter my age, I am your superior?  He is the "I Am".  And I am the "it is what it is" -- the "it is what it is" that should not judge.



That woman who cares for her sick parents and family, and works two jobs, and never has time for herself got a bad deal in life?  Is it really a burden that she loves that much?  That woman that cares for her mother who has followed the circle of life and becomes like a helpless baby once again....Is it really a pity that she does for her mother what her mother did for her?  To become selfless angel incarnate, finally?

I woke up today to write with a mind covered with a head of hair I had always hated:  Big, and curly, and bushy, that would tickle the nose of any man who could get close enough... but my God loves my hair, and He looks down on it and marvels at all of the strands of His own creation.  So much so that He allows it grow all of my life...even after death it continues to grow, the crown of this physical body.  Just as my spirit continues to grow beyond death into what is good and right.  As the bad now dies a slow death the good takes its place.

Sometimes what we find hideous is, in fact, glorious.  And so, we look twice at the texture.





Proverbs 3:5
Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.



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