By the end of our seminary years, we’d experienced such lack and such abundance all at the same time. In our season of drought, we became familiar with our own weakness and God’s strength. We knew weak arms, legs shaking, nose running, tongue parched, voices dry and brittle, not much more than a whisper, no energy. Bruce and I relied on each other in our weakest moments. Bruce needing me; me needing Bruce; each of us needing the other to bring the other a much needed drink of reassurance; both of us in prayer. I remained in a constant state of prayer, praying that I would have the strength when he was weakest, and that he would have the strength when I was weakest. Side by side we continue to go… believing, expecting, requesting, hoping, trusting… Our undercurrent always the breath of God blowing through our hearts, minds and bodies.
But blessed is the man who trusts me, God, the woman who sticks with God. They’re like trees replanted in Eden, putting down roots near the rivers. Never a worry through the hottest of summers, never dropping a leaf, Serene and calm through droughts, bearing fresh fruit every season. Jeremiah 17:7 MSG