Susan LaffertySomething 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.
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
