On the porch I sat.
It was a beautiful spring day, but I had a wazoo of weeds, a long unwanted list, and a dry, empty longing. Whether it was the paralyzing pace, or the brilliant sun’s warmth, I had to simply sit.
I didn’t want to do anything. I’d lost my excitement and anxiety reigned in its place. I wanted to shut down and turn off the to-do file.
Way too much happening. My oldest child was about to get married, the next in line graduating and headed off to school. At home, the remaining last child was uneasy, teasing about running off. Anything seemed more appealing than being left with the “crazy old parents.” Add wedding showers, graduation parties and the search for the right dress to the less-than-simple schedule and . . .
I quit.
I was done.
Done for, anyway. The clock was ticking. I’d fought Father Time like he was a bad weed. I’m ashamed to say that when my kids were in grade school, I even stopped giving them birthday parties.
I prepared the babies to be grown-ups, but when the exchange took place, I noticed I missed the class preparing me. Surely after I’d invested my life into these kids, they couldn’t leave.
But try as we may, life changes faster than clock hands during spring forward.
Kids change. They age. And our denial is forced to a halt.
So on that bright spring day, I sat on the porch.
And I discovered, again, my desperate need. The need to fertilize my faith, plant inner growth and gulp the Living Water. The life giving, thirst quenching water of trust in God, good for all seasons.
I remembered life’s summers may come and go, but Jesus remains the same.
Today. Tomorrow. Yesterday.
The same.
I trust him.
You can too. Won’t you join me for some Living Water refreshment on the porch?
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That line of poetry pierces into the struggle for my passion and alludes to the difficulties of life. Job said:
