Heading to bed in the desert when the lack of sunshine makes me doubt. Wrecked within. All the stored water in my flesh is tested under my heavy pulsing heart. I feel thin, weak, wondering if the sun will truly make its way back again, though I’ve seen it again and again and again. I wonder why it continues to leave me. Leave me cold.
This I recall to mind. I am actually the one moving on this rocky, sandy ground around a sun set, always the same. Waiting for truth to reach over those burning cliffs and remind me. This I call to mind and so I have hope. His love never stops, and His mercies never end, ever. New every morning. Hold on until the day Desert Clinger. (Lamentations 3) The labor of determining seed and soil and timing. The repetition of back and forth when you see nothing but long rows of unknowns, dropping handfuls of hope and instruction when you’re long past exhaustion under the heat of scrutiny, even pain. There’s a burden and beauty in womanhood. It’s long-suffering work to surrender what you hold for someone else to grow. She chooses sowing over hemming it all in.
“Dark and I, yet lovely. Do not stare at me because I am dark, because I am darkened by the sun… While taking care of the vineyard, my own vineyard I had to neglect.” “How beautiful you are, my beloved!” (Song of Songs 1)
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WORKS ADDED
January 2024
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