And that, my friends, is what you call marketing. Be honest, you were hoping to read bashing words, blood curdling tongue lashings, even. What a trauma addicted society we live in...but that's a whole other post. (Note: I am too. Like reading internet comments and watching the dung fly.. I'm working on it!)
Back to my point
All over my house I have this one piece of Scripture that is imprinted on various items. Most of them were gifts given to me by loved ones. I have coffee mugs, journals, plaques etc, everywhere with ps 46:1. God is our refuge and strength. Recently, I unwrapped a new journal with this on the front purposefully because I would use it to empty out some painful areas and the cover just seemed appropriate. Before writing the first sentence I mulled over that verse. Really? Refuge? What does that mean to me?
The first picture that came across my mind was like a scene in the desert. (I have a vivid imagination, so bear with me) It's hot, like super hot. I'm seeing oasis' everywhere. Just something to cool me. I'm so tired and can't walk another step, almost in crawling position. I see a huge building in the distance. Actually, I'm more struck by the shadow the building cast. I think, if I can just make it to that shady part I can rest. It's safe. It'll shelter me. I can lean against it and catch my breath.
Refuge.
These past few weeks I've had a thousand little things and a few big things just knock the wind out of me. Today, after getting my purse stolen and all the familiar feelings it brought with it, I had to run to my Refuge. In the midst of being so vulnerable I needed to feel safe, protected, and at peace. I could choose to get angry (ok I did for about an hour), I could be sitting here keeping vigil over my car, or I could think of a million things that could go wrong. Or I could sit here in the shade after having done all I know to do and just pray and trust.
Or maybe I'll take a nap!
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