Spilt Milk

I’m awake and alive? Sometimes my soul falls off its rails and falls through the cracks. It seems to have slept and woke up in tingles—picks and needles. It’s half numb, but becoming more alive. 

Have I played a Rip Van Winkle?

Still foggy, but more awake, I see the children’s childhoods have all but gone. Now they are now young adults, bright, sharp, and ready to tackle the world ahead. Most important, they are in the faith that has kept them and me. In that, there is no greater joy! Even through a decade of haze, my Lord kept my children, His children. Perhaps my comatose state could have been avoided? I think not, the injury was too severe; but, could I have managed it better? Perhaps?  Spilt milk and Humpty Dumpty’s lays shattered on a wet floor. Rather than picking up the pieces, I ended up back on the Potters wheel, once again being shaped and molded. I feel the pressure of His hand and feel the filter of His word as He washes and shapes me. The worlds mold didn't fit, so to it I will not conform. David sang this: “He picked me up out of the miry clay.” Yes, believers fall in the pit too, but Solomon wrote it well:

^“15 Do not lurk like a thief near the house of the righteous,
    do not plunder their dwelling place;
¹⁶ for though the righteous fall seven times, they rise again,
    but the wicked stumble when calamity strikes.”

Proverbs 24:15-16 NIV

Through Christ we are made righteous, and we do rise again. Jesus started the work in us and He will finish it!