Susan LaffertyOcean roar in winter. Loud. Waves cross. Crash. Deep blues and teals mixing. Mingling. Foaming white.
Gale-force winds whip through. Scattering sand. Tearing at the water. And me.
Power on display.
And I am a mere whisper. Hushed.
Tomorrow. Next month. Next year.
Detailed future schedules, meticulously stored in digital calendars.
Vanish. Into thin air. Digital air.
As a corona virus disrupts. Delays. Deletes.
And thieves break in.
Whispering fear. Stealing contentment.
This confining space. A refining place. Reveals.
Makes plain where best-laid-plans put down roots.
And expectations take hold.
“Come now, you who say, ‘Today or tomorrow we will travel to such and such a city.…Yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring—what your life will be!…”
James 4:14,15
