In the weeks before Thanksgiving, I was inundated with the sadnesses of people I love: a mental ill child, families struggling with finances, a pastor overburdened with hurting people, a young woman who lost her husband, and then two weeks later lost her mother. My aching body. A large lump on my back. A friend's dying father.
I spend much too much time on here. I stare at this:
The map inspires me. I'm the kind of person that reads National Geographics cover to cover. And Smithsonian. It takes me places. The map makes me wonder where I can wander. Like David running from Saul. Bora Bora. Come with me . . .
Halfway between Baja and Australia.
...a part of French Polynesia.
But alas, Satan dwells there, too. I would only be like David running to the Philistines. And I remember that I must armor myself against the evils of the world.
And I remember, I have only the Lord: He is the same yesterday, today and tomorrow. And thank Him I don't have to pay $900 a night.
2 comments:
Something about maps makes me feel so comfortingly small...like I could disappear. Back in the days when we had time to sit and relax (haha!) we would sit and look at maps, or gaze at the huge map of the world on the wall of our apartment, and just talk.
"Where can I go from your spirit, where can I go from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there, if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me."
Psalm 139 7-9, NIV
We have a globe in our front hallway and when I have had enough I spin it and close my eyes and wait for it to stop. Whatever it stops on that is where I decide to run away to that day. If only it were that easy. I would travel with a backpack and nothing else if I were single and childless. The world calls my name.
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