I like to hold back on God’s promises. Or take the theological high road, and assume that real equals pain. Happy equals fluff.
I like to assume I know the coded message of good times. That in the sweetness, there is a warning of clouds coming. Do I think the saying is contentment goes before the fall?
I want to be done with that.
I don’t want to borrow trouble and if the man folds my napkin into a heart, when he brings me herbs to our under-stocked kitchen…why can’t I say, heck yeah?
It goes without saying that life has sorrow and that God uses tough times in the best ways. But are we told that He is limited to that? Do I really have to fear the worst, as if that will prepare me, or more foolish still, that it will dodge the providence bullet?
All I know is that right now, in the new flush of love and life together, I have no room for anything but gratitude or hope. Naivete or faith? Abiding joy or ankle deep happiness?
It’s not my call and it doesn’t need to be, because God is the one who directs my funny, baffling and joyous way. It sounds pious, but it isn’t – only simple.
I’m leaving it to Him.