wonder

We don’t plant weeds, but they come.
We don’t plan for heartache, but it arrives.
It sneaks in and it feels unplanned, and we stand breathless and unprepared.


He says, “He makes known the paths of life.” (Acts 2:28) We pray that path is lined with roses and buttercups.
But this path;  the one more weed than wonder, puts us on our knees.


And what if our path was prim and rosy;  would we still seek Him?
This earth would be our heaven.
I believe the pain of the present holds something;   It holds the promise of more to come.
It holds the calm grasp of Someone who sees purpose and plan, comfort and calm.

We despise the pain, but it does not define us; it directs us.
Weeds that yield flowers
Pain that yields hope.

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