He doesn’t jump to resolve. Or rescue. The psalmist is moving through his pain and fear.
Moving through the murk, into trust.
He knows who God is.
And cries out to Him.

He doesn’t jump to resolve. Or rescue. The psalmist is moving through his pain and fear.
Moving through the murk, into trust.
He knows who God is.
And cries out to Him.

First memory of sand and waves holds fast in the corners of my mind. Living on the island of vacations I experienced. As a child.
There was another beach before that. When I was a toddler. Depicted in family photographs during our sojourn in Thailand.
But Bali reigns in my memory files. Footprints on the beach taking me back.
Hot sun, yellow sand. Volcano in the distance.

Words and more words. Flying across the internet.
Strutting through various forms of media. Selling incivility and foolishness.
Missives dismissive.
Declarations disruptive.
Treacherous.
