Am thinking about the spectrum of life today. Saturday morning I awoke to the thumping noises of my friends' nine-month old surrendering to gravity's superior morning strength. His head and chest would lift eight inches off the crib mattress and then flop immediately downward like a beaching seal. After an hour of sympathizing with the reluctant riser, the remainder of the day was spent in the company of my peers, several of whom live with physical disabilities. Sunday brought our church service at the convalescent home, marked with a room visit to one of my favorite residents who is suffering through chemotherapy treatments at age ninety-five. Sometimes I am overwhelmed by the paradox of human experience: so much variety within one story line.
As a father shows compassion to his children,
so the Lord shows compassion to those who fear him.
For he knows our frame;
he remembers that we are dust.
Psalm 103:13-14
1 comment:
You're a good writer. I think this too. me-bab
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