Don’t you hate it when life attacks and really messes up your plans? I do. It seems as if the last decade or so has involved surfing some really big waves that I am not qualified to surf, attempting to gracefully ride them out, to simply fake it.
“God doesn’t call the qualified, He qualifies the called.”
Sometimes it seems as if He just has me supernaturally duct taped together, because I don’t even know how to surf. I won’t bore you with all the details, but suffice it to say I can’t be in church today because I’ve somehow managed to wind up in a class all weekend while dealing with not one, but two family emergencies, all while sneaking in a huge funeral for an epic patriarch, a much-loved dad and grand dad.
I am not much of a surfer, but I have done enough of it to know the importance of timing and placement, of catching those waves just right. One need not ever actually stand up on that board, but if your timing is off you will wind up at the mercy of those waves, plunged to the bottom and sure to eat a mouthful of sand.
So, with as much good humor as I can muster, I am busy right now eating mouthfuls of sand and dreaming of actual surfing.