Wednesday, July 20, 2011

weary land.

The drought has lingered longer than expected.
And the problem with the patterns of weather is their only consistency being in their unpredictable nature.

Gathering stores for the desert in the middle of it is a much harder process than if I'd chosen oil when much abounded.

But in the barrenness, there is a slow climbing anticipation;
a hope that sustains the validity and position of its self-existent truth.

You are with me.

Four very distinct and separate words,
each legitimized by the first.
Nothing has been lost. Everything has to be found.
All the power of every season is in who You are in the midst of it.

Be rain here.
Be joy here.
Be life here.
Be hope...oh God, be my hope.

The dampened corners of my eyes are the only oasis this heart has known;
the abstract water and comfort in a dry and weary land.

You will lead me...You always lead me.

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