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It is very calm and quite nice where I sit this morning, unlike what’s going on in Houston.  But there are storms inside all of us here, too, that are raging along with Hurricane Ike. 

We took shelter in a ranch house owned by my cousins in Cisco, Texas.  We watch the news out of Houston almost constantly.  But it’s just not enough.  Each of us would really like to know what’s happening with our own property.  Is there damage?  And there is uncertainty about what and when returning home will come.  How long will we stay here?  None of us make money unless we’re working.  And, though my cousins are very supportive, how long can we stay, imposing on their hospitality?


How things can change in the course of one day!

What is happening to my body?  My right leg is swollen, even after a night’s rest.  I got up this morning feeling it “jiggle” from the fluid in it.  And I’m afraid.

But my main thought is about my ability to trust you.  Can I trust you in spite of what may happen to my body?  Can I continue to see you as my beloved, or will I only look to you for what you can do for me?  Like produce healing within me?

The body can be such a distraction to love.  It draws all the attention to itself.

I need you here with me, My love.  I need your calm assurances, your compassionate touch as I go through whatever lies ahead of me.  Wrap your arms around me, bringing love’s healing to me, to my soul.

I still must face this new development, and make decisions, and for that I need your guidance and counsel.  What should I do; who should I see?  How quickly must I give it attention?  I feel fine in every other way; if not fine, at least not unusually different.  It’s just this right leg that began swelling last night.  Is it caused by the torn cartilage in my knee, or a symptom of something new?  Is it something minor, or the beginning of a serious health issue?  Please give me counsel.

No one can go back and make a new start, but one can start now and make a new ending.

I want to change the way I pray.  For too long it has been canned, habitual, repetitive — all those things that pagans do.  It has not usually been a conversation or walking in the cool of the day with God.  It has been a well-planned, methodical, engineered time full of requests.

I so enjoy the coolness of the morning.  Bird-songs and cricket calls abound.  The recent storms cleansed the earth, the sky, and all things in between.  But much of the summer is hot even in the early morning, and so I sit inside, sometimes looking out the window, as I meditate.  Without looking at my list, several things come to mind.

My friend, Paul, leaves tomorrow on what could be a dangerous trip to Togo.  Because of recent food riots, and because he is American, people may accost him, either to plead or to harm.

I don’t know what we’ll do now that Rex is quitting his job at Blue Haven.  Even though Bill, his boss, says he will continue using us for permits, I fully expect him to turn to Anita for everything.

And Jerralynn St. Cyr — I just repeat the name over and over because I don’t know how to adequately pray for such a loss.  Her two small children murdered by their father in such a horrible way.

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July 2018
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