Yesterday sucked. It was so bad that a friend offered to run by the ABC store for me after work. Y’all, I don’t even drink.
Work kicked my tail. The demands of the day-to-day threatened to overcome me. And I fell apart. Had it not been for some emergency spicy guacamole that Matt picked up on the way home from work, I might still be in the fetal position at this moment. Because can’t can we all agree that guacamole makes everything better? (And the two pound bag of Twizzlers I had stashed away for such a time as this. Clearly.)
Then, this morning came. In those few sacred moments of quiet I had before the rest of the house awoke, I opened my Bible, coffee and Twizzlers (yes, Twizzlers) in hand, and read exactly what I needed to hear:
From the ends of the earth I call to you, I call as my heart grows faint; lead me to the rock that is higher than I. (Psalm 61: 2) Find rest, O my soul, in God alone; my hope comes from him. He alone is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will not be shaken. My salvation and my honor depend on God; he is my mighty rock, my refuge. (Psalm 62:6-7)
I just can’t shake that image of the rock today. That rock that is higher than I. Because as I flounder and thrash about in the waters that are sometimes just murkier than others, I desperately need that refuge. And I need that hope of the steady rock that ain’t going anywhere, even (especially) on the ridiculously awful days.
So, here I am. A sopping wet mess who’s flat out exhausted from treading water for so long, but I’m on the rock. Resting. And, well, eating guacamole.