Some days are full of pebbles-
a myriad of small, stinging pains,
any one of them minor,
together an onslaught that flings dirt in the eyes,
leaves a thousand tiny bruises.
Then there are boulder seasons-
breathtaking, crushing things
too large for my finite mind,
blocking the view,
These are boulder days.
A friend's heart and home shattered by infidelity.
Administrative changes in our school district.
A senior and a freshman.
Students in darkness breaking the surface as anger
and kids in darkness masked by a pleasant demeanor.
Amid the boulders,
I cry out to Jesus--
to be salt and light,
gentle, winsome, truthful, faithful--
but mostly just for Him.
Do not tremble, do not be afraid.
Did I not proclaim this and foretell it long ago?
You are my witnesses. Is there any God besides me?
No, there is no other Rock; I know not one.