The Small Delicate Hand

There it was again.  How does it come upon her so quickly and without an apparent sign of its coming? Her mind seems free from concern and worries.  She cannot even visualize one solitary event leading to its appearance.  Still she can feel the weight of its presence as though she has summoned the darkness to appear. 

This thing called burden, depression or anxiety comes quickly like a thief in the night, robbing her of her peace of mind.  Not only does it steal her peace of mind but it also seems to want a piece of her soul, her very being.  It hovers over her like a cloud about to rupture at the seams. Perhaps this time it will simply swallow her whole.  At times, she wishes it would do just that.  At least then it might be over and she could simply rest.

Wait, this time she notices something quite strange.  Had she never noticed it before?  The clouds though many are pitch black, some are fluffy and white.  Looking closer, yes there it is a small delicate hand reaches high out of the cloud.  Her very being sighs with relief but why?  Somewhere in her mind (her spirit) she is acquainted with this sigh of relief. 

The clouds are drifting now.  There is a ray of light, a ray of hope.  She now realizes that small hand was lifted in praise. Then she sees His hand reaching down to grasp the small delicate uplifted hand.   She simply whispers “next time I will lift my hand sooner.”

 Psalms 42:11 Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God.

lj04292013