If you want to hear God’s voice, listen to the wind . . .
I hear it especially when I am hurting, when I need His grace of comfort. As I take my early morning walks and talk to Him, the breeze surrounds me. It is so refreshing it’s like being embraced by God.
The silence stretched too long so I said, “You don’t have to answer the question now. As you ponder it at your own time, try to answer this follow-up question. On a scale of one to 10, how would you rate the way you show your love?”
Posts on FB by friends at noon today reminded me it is Valentine’s Day. Not one in my family remembered, not even my one and only, not even Ate Vi (who usually remembers days such as Piolo’s birthday)—not even, or specially, me.
Today is my self-imposed deadline for my new book, a devotional for the workplace, which took all of my waking (and sleeping) hours in the last few months. And so, on d-day, I had been working furiously from 4 AM on my last two entries that, ironically, took much, much longer to write than any of the 363 others.
Stuck in traffic, we were behind a van with this sticker:
The story is told that a man wanted to cross a river where a piranha lived. (A piranha is a ferocious killer fish with sharp teeth and thirsts for blood.)