I have a friend who just learned her cancer has returned. On her blog, she shared a previous entry (August, 2011) from her journal. I found the words amazing!
As Abraham took off for an unknown journey, I too have entered an
unfamiliar path. Not a path I would have chosen and yet it’s where I
find myself. The air is dry. The heat, stifling. The wind kicks up dust
and blurs my vision. I lose my footing. My feet crack and bleed and I
fall. Water, life, sustenance all seem a fading luxury. As the wind
whips over my head, I struggle to get up–and fail. I try again–and fail.
Then I feel a tug upon my hand. Strong, rough hands take hold of mine
and pull me up. Capable hands. Hands that are wounded and scarred.
Serving hands. When I stand, His hand continues to hold mine, guiding
and comforting me. Nothing is said but the air has a promising hint of
cool. My vision is cleared, if only for a little while. A pool of water,
refreshing, sparkling water, is ahead. His hand squeezes mine and I
know everything will be all right. There will be more wind. More stifling heat and dust storms. But His hand holds me steady. Keeps me calm. His hand . . . will never let me go.”
Thanks, Diann, for encouraging "me/us." I hope you find comfort in them once again. Praying, girlfriend!
