Through His Hands
Well as I sit here at the computer and the clock strikes 11, it reminds me of many such nights over my 60 years. Can't sleep because.....there's always a reason. This one is a recurring theme....a thorn in my side so to speak. A reason to keep me completely humble, because try as I might my life is never perfect.I have written about this before, and being the emotional person I am, when it happens again I will probably write about it again. Just when I think I can stand to my full height and walk with shoulders set and my eyes pressing forward, there is a hijacker standing behind the tree with a baseball bat. I don't usually see him as he is hiding, though I know he's there somewhere. He has a great advantage over me. He's a chameleon, changing shape or color to escape my detection. Then, as I walk by said tree, he jumps out with the bat and flattens me again. Cold-cocks me , knocks me out, and usually takes along with my consciousness the will to get ...