And then I look around. Here is one facing the internal, ongoing nightmare of childhood sexual abuse. Another friend is watching a beloved spouse die by inches, by hours. That family lives with the unchanging upheaval of a child's mental illness. There is a mom whose heart has been crushed by the choices of a daughter whose heart she can no longer find. These people cannot simply "be where their feet are" because, like me, they don't want to be there. Some feet are mired ankle deep in the mud of grief, others are slipping and stumbling on loveless, icy patches of life. Some feet are hanging in midair, uncertain which step to take next. What then? Is it inevitable that we limp through our days, marking time until our feet find themselves on a better path?
"Satisfy us (me!)
in the morning (this morning!)
with your steadfast love,
that we (I!)
may rejoice and be glad
all our (my) days....(including this one?!)
asking help to keep us, and aid us through that day's work;
and tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
through years of long tomorrows, it will be but the same thing to do,
leaving the future always in God's hands, sure that He can care for it better than we.
Blessed trust that can thus say, 'This hour is mine with its present duty;
the next is God's, and when it comes, His presence will come with it.'"
-W.R. Huntingdon, 1838-1909