From the sparks that ensued one would think her mom had threatened something dreadful - spinach for dinner, perhaps, or a trip to Siberia. Lucy whirled around, all lowered brows and pouting lips and flailing arms. “Again?!” she cried.
The audacity of her mother to take her away from a place that would soon be dark and empty, locked up tight! To force her to exchange this room with its dingy tile floors and flickering flourescent lights for the comfort and security of home! To insist on feeding her a nourishing meal, kissing her owies, tucking her in at night! Every week it’s the same -- the tyrant simply refuses to abandon her.
If I ever got to the end of the list of reasons to be grateful, which I won't, I’d have plenty of cause to start back at the beginning. I’ve been shown mercy again. I’ve been forgiven again. I’ve been provided for again. He puts the lonely in families again. His compassion is new every morning again.
He’s more than proven Himself. How is it that I’m still surprised when He shows up and remains true to His character all over again?