Early this morning, I left for my daily walk/run, my thoughts in a turmoil. Regardless of my struggle to keep positive, yesterday plagued my mind. I’d been helping my 35 year-old son who has MS. His words, brimming with anger and defeat, still burned in my head. The sight of him clinging to railings, cupboards, and walls, to navigate around his home haunted my heart. As a mother, I wanted to cradle him as I did when he was two years old. To tell him tomorrow will be better. But he’s no longer little and I know tomorrow might be worse. I needed to blame someone, something. To scream. To demand why. Was this punishment for some wrong deed? My fists clenched. My throat ached and I looked up. Only God had the answers. Suddenly, peace like a warm blanket swaddled me and the song He is High and Lifted Up floated into my thoughts. As if to prove it, when I sprinted around the next corner the sun had risen high enough to set aglow a clump of trees. Humbled, I slowed my pace. In spite of my negativity, God had taken time to remind me even in the midst of despair, He is with us. He is High and Lifted Up, and will give us the strength and wisdom we need in the moment we need it.
On first impression, these glimmering waves threatened to lull me into a state of tranquility. Moments before I yielded to its temptation, I took a closer look.