“This is the hardest of all: to close the open hand out of love,
and keep modest as a giver.”
Friedrich Nietzsche
(a lone black eyed susan wild flower in the middle of clear cut timber land / Julie Cook / 2015)
There are those days, you know those days, the days you wish you’d never gotten out of bed. . .
Those days that you knew before you even met the day head on that you’d be damned if you did, and damned if you didn’t.
As in it wouldn’t matter what you did, as in anything and everything will go against your very best effort.
These are the days that have you looking skyward with a deadpan “really God?”
Not that God has done anything to you, you know that, but you just feel as if nothing, as in absolutely nothing, nada, nilche, zero will work in your favor.
It’s the head banging against a brick wall day.
Its a hit the wall and fall off kind of day.
A deer in headlights kind of day.
A no knot at the end of your rope kind of day.
A day that finds you uttering but one word and one word only. . .
HELP!
And then somewhere, somewhere way down deep, somewhere in-between the anger, the tears, the frustration, the heartbreak. . .
you know,
as in you just know. . .
He hears. . .
Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need.
Hebrews 4:16
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