With two children in tow, this Midwesterner left behind her goats, chickens and garden to move with her husband right on to the Mount of Olives in Jerusalem. I felt like I should be grateful and awed, and I was – until my son sliced his foot open, my daughter caught head lice, we got into an accident and, the crowning moment – we started a grassfire on the Mount of Olives. Of course, my son couldn’t help extinguish it; he was still on crutches. But God.is.good.all.the.time…right?
Yes. But life is still life, even on the Mount of Olives.
Slowly, we learn to slow down and see ~ and give thanks. And we learn that we will continue to learn.
Eucharisteo. (Until the next “calamity” strikes…God help me, then, when I cannot help my own foolish self.)
By: Angela Zimmann