I hear what God proclaims;
God proclaims peace.
I know I’ve shared this before. Still, I can’t help myself. As we ease into what has or will eventually become our new normal, I continue to worry. I’m bothered and I’m restless. A sense of urgency overwhelms me and I feel a deep need to fix things. I ask myself often if this is simply a sign of my age.
Because I love our sons, their wives and our grandchildren, I find myself gravely troubled by the state of this world. Every time I convince myself that things cannot possibly get worse, additional turmoil surfaces. I think of our family, especially our grandchildren, and I ask myself what this world will be like for them after Grandpa and I are gone.
The family photo resting above my keyboard interrupts my brooding. The sparkle in the eyes of my offspring insists that I give them and their contemporaries a little credit. That sparkle also touches those smoldering embers of hope deep within which I’ve recently ignored. It occurs to me that numerous generations before me have wrung their hands in despair as well, only to be surprised by the goodness brought about by the young people among them. I look back at that family photo. There, I rediscover my hope. There, I find peace.
Loving God, thank you for the gift of our offspring. Within each one of them lies the reason for our hope and the potential for healing and peace on this earth.
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