Of late, when I’m not busy with work or Finn or friends or family or cooking or sleeping, I’ve been sad. Sad for Finn and fearful of his future. The Lord is helping me through this with extravagant love and gentle discipline. But I’m still sad. I think that’s okay for now.
I heard this poem over the weekend and took encouragement from it. Hope ye’ do too. (I’m only sharing the middle three stanzas that I like best. Sorry, Mr. William Cowper.)
Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy and shall break
In blessings on your head.
Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for His grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.
His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.