Every day holds at least one surprise, some producing joy, others promoting fear.
Some days I have to seriously search for the joy variety. My pace to check items off most certainly turns the joy genus invisible. I blindly tromp through fields of wildflowers on my way to the mountain I’m trying to climb.
“Stressed achievement” is the quasi-clinical term.
Other days the fear variety occupy my radar, sounding out like the Easter morning tornado warning that drove my family into an inner closet at 4 am. Weather alarms are wonderful wake-ups for the sleeping soul.
This virus-season seems to have spawned an abundance of storm surprises.
My Father’s promise to me in Isaiah 43 calms every fear: When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you.
Knowing His eyes are omniscient, and His plans for me always good, allows me to spend more time noticing the flowers.