Susan LaffertyOnce a year, I see it.
Visual of my blindspots.
Patterns of grey and black mapped out on a screen in the ophthalmologist’s office.
In life, blindspots can creep in. And continue. Unnoticed. Never addressed.
Endangering vision and obedience.
Something new. Blank page of another year. Month. Day.
Unwritten. Unspoken. Unknown by me.
At the open door sits fresh, white snow as far as the eye can see. Waiting for the first footprint.
Looks like hope.
Famine. It’s coming.
An odd theme to consider in the middle of Thanksgiving season. But there it is. In my daily Bible reading.
Amos the herdsman delivers this word of the Lord. To a people nonchalant. Complacent. And ultimately resistant.
Unwilling to repent.
And this is no scarcity of grain in lean years. Nothing like the famine of Joseph’s day.
