The calendar pages turn; the shock is history; decisions multiply; rebuilding starts; grieving continues.
The ground is soaked with rain. She struggles to walk on the dirt road. The mud clinging to her shoes gluing them to the ground at times, and other times turning them into skate boards tumbling her to the ground. Her hands now encased in mud as well. Will she ever arrive? She struggles on.
Another walks the same road. She too experiences the sucking, sloshing, muddy reality. Her progress is slow, very slow; she too falters and falls. She looks around for help. She sees hands—dry hands—at the side of the road under the protection of the tall pine trees. She reaches; they reach; they connect.
A third travels that muddy pathway. The oozing of the ground is a nuisance. It saddens her to think of the sunny days just a week ago and how all has changed in the short time in the reality of the storm—the reality of now. Life is very different but must be lived. She plunges ahead.
Three dear friends traverse the same road, three different responses to the storm they endure.
“For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, so we should walk in them”.
Ephesians 2:10
Father, help me to honor how you created each of my friends. Please help me to not try to fit them into a box that I understand. Please allow me to love them well in ways they can receive. Amen.
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