Fixed a cup of coffee.
Fiddle around with the graphic illustration to no avail.
What Now My Master? …
Wednesday, December 2, 2020 at 11:47 pm
This day is about to end with a perfect number seven in the time. Silence all around. Peace. Rested. Confidently, patiently, and with composure waiting on You to reveal Your next secret to me. Is my mind churning evil thoughts? Nay! No! Not ever again! Peruvian chocolates instead! Your Presence? So real!
- Back to see what You have for me in the graphics department.
- Thursday, December 3, 2020 at 2:54 am. Drowsy. Heading for bed.
Two More Hours Sleeping Did Me Good. Ready Now To Go On …
Thursday, December 3, 2020 at 6:03 am.
Master? You continue to amaze me with Your doings. The way You show me Your covenant and reveal to me its deep, inner meaning on the authority of Your written words in Psalms 25. I went to sleep wondering whether my baby Roxana’s birthday was the 3rd or the 4th. Imagine loosing tract of my baby’s birthday, but!
No Matter. It Is All Part Of Your Doings …
No Internet. No way to check anything. No way to send a greeting to Roxana. No way for any of my former ways. Bless my heart! You have brought me a long way since You gifted me my precious child. That child was really not by my will—she was an ‘accident’—a miraculous accident some 57 years ago. She knows it—born by Your will not mine.
- The best part right now?
- You let me forget whether her birth was today or tomorrow.
- Only way to check the matter?
- Search Your inspired records from 2019.
- Talking about blown away?
- I am! What a finding!
Well? It’s Another Day On This Winter Month …
Tuesday, December 3, 2019 at 3:30 am.
O my Beloved Master! I really, really do not like the winter. It’s the spring that I so wait for. It’s in the spring when You call me to come away with You.
Song of Solomon 2:10-13
My beloved speaks and says to me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.
For, behold, the winter is past; the rain is over and gone.
The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing [of birds] has come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land.