Puddles

A shrouded sunrise illuminated the morning sky as gentle rain dripped off the rusted tin roof. A symphony of softness washed remnants of days past onto thirsty ground. I embraced aromas of relative silence after a night of thunder crashes and rain blowing against window-panes. Echoes of my heart as of late. Barefoot on the back porch, a dampened breeze swirled around ancient oaks as wind chimes sang their songs, soft on the ears though slightly out of tune. On one side, potted plants and new found tree-lets awoke from winter slumber drinking in the nourishing rains, on the other, puddles of storms previous became a muddy mess if disturbed. Promises of new growth or sloppy footprints depending on which way I turn.

Rumbling thunder and I was back inside, under a blanket with my precious bride, my cold feet banished to the other side of the sofa.

It’s easy to get caught up in the temptations and distractions that life throws our way. Sometimes, we find ourselves wandering down the wrong path, splashing in the mud instead of moving forward on a chosen path. Each return to solid ground reveals how deeply we’ve splashed in dirty water and how much longer it takes to wash the mud from our feet and the crud from our soul.

In choosing paths, the puddles look like great fun, but under the smooth clear water lies shifting sand, unable to hold your weight. First between your toes, whimsical and innocent, then to your ankles, impeding but manageable, until you are consumed by the ever-sinking mud. It is best to travel with grass beneath your feet near trees to climb should the water rise too quickly. And to hold the Hand of the One who created it all and draws us out of the mire unto Himself.

Give careful thought to the paths for your feet and be steadfast in all your ways. Do not turn to the right or the left; keep your foot from evil. Proverbs 4:26-27