Marj and I are teaching a Sunday School class on the book of Daniel. Yesterday we dug into the 4th chapter, in which Nebuchadnezzar dreams of a magnificent, all-sufficient tree that is cut and shorn, left as a stump. The holy messenger tells Nebuchadnezzar that, because he had not humbled himself before the God of heaven, he would be reduced to the mind and status of an animal for a time.
Our class discussion centered around how we think we direct our own paths, and what a shock it is to be derailed. I had the obvious example of being slammed to the floor of the Dallas Fort-Worth airport, my physical path home disrupted but also my physical well-being. I also chatted about the work of the forester. Nice analogies.
The forester is annoying me today. Rather than going deep in the woods to cut trees, he's working on the other side of our stone walls, cutting the big logs. Loud, loud, loud! So loud, in fact, that even Tasha can hear him. (She's annoyed, too. Even Sultana is annoyed but what else is new?)
It's such a stunningly beautiful day but I can't sit out there because it's all bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt.
Cranky me. I'm so used to being alone with Tasha all day, the woods silent, the house silent, the world my own, that I also leave God out of the equation. Like Nebuchadnezzar, I stand and think, "What a wonderful world I've made through the splendor of my hands."
Given that I have no desire to be eating grass tonight, I am off right now to praise God for His splendor.
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