I'm ironing my clothes and for the moment not thinking about my gramma or hospice or anything except whether to wear a warm hoody or light shirt.
And into my heart drops a sentence from the throne,
"Your gramma's going to heaven in a minute."
I don't know how long the minute will be, but my heart rejoices and there is laughter in the depths of my soul. God, you are so ever-present. Thank you.
James 4:14 Whereas ye know not what shall be on the morrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapour, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007. 10:43 a.m.