I’ve been thinking about the future. It’s that time of year. Looking ahead.

This year I’m especially thinking about My future…what I should do with the Time.

Since I am no longer the sole educator of my children, I’m wondering what might be next. Maybe nothing… but maybe Something. Who knows.

I was talking to my daughter about an Idea. Playing with a vision. Processing. You know….

What do you think? Can you see it?

She’s quiet.

Do you think I could do it?

She tilts her head. I think you’d be good at it…while you’re weak. But if you ever get strong, you’d be awful. You don’t do Arrogant well.

Well, that’s why God gives us daughters. They’re the only ones who can say such things and get away with it.

Probably right.

But I can’t stay sad forever,  I tell her.

She smiles. Sadness is your strength. You’re at your best when you weak. Unsure of yourself. You give the best advice when you’re There.

Well, that explains a lot.

Like this past Christmas Day.

I had it so well planned. Orchestrated. Packed refrigerator. Gifts organized in boxes stacked in my bedroom. Meals lined up. Pies frozen. Stockings hung. Just waiting now.

But you can only do so much.

Morning comes and I can hear my autistic daughter up way before the rest of us. Christmas is her favorite day of the year. She’s already peeked at her stocking. And she’s singing a carol or two. I’m just hoping for fifteen more minutes or so… but here we go.

Coffee brewed. Kids in pajamas. Smiles abound.

Someone go get Grace.

But now Grace is taking a nap. Or something. Can’t remember. But she’s angry. Doesn’t want to do stockings yet. Or ever?

We try to convince. Persuade. Twist her arm. But nothing works. Which would be okay except for the shouting. Screeching. Unhappy face.

Our Silent Night has become tainted. Stained by a brain that doesn’t respond to reason. Or anything else that makes sense.

Let her go. We can’t force this.

But can we get out from under this cloud?  All day we are in and out of it. Laughter. Anger. Joy. Regret.

Christmas Day.

And I wake up the next morning. Hungry. For God. He’s the only one who can make sense of it all. And I’m so glad he does.

I read my Psalms with the Kellers’ devotional. I’m behind a day, so I actually read two. Psalm 146 and Psalm 147- which are a couple favorites of mine anyway. And I’m all there even before I read the commentary.

” Put not your trust in princes.”
Having a perfect family is no safety.

“Blessed is he whose help is in the God of Jacob.”
Blessed- me with His help.

“Whose hope is in the Lord his God….”
Not in my Now.

“He upholds the widow and the fatherless.”
He has a special place in his heart for the marginalized. The weak. The hurting. Works for me.

“He heals the broken hearted and binds up their wounds.”
That’s us.

“His delight is not in the strength of the horse, nor his pleasure in the legs of a man,  but the LORD takes pleasure in those who fear him, in those who hope in his steadfast love.”
His eye is not drawn to human strength or accomplishment, but to little ole me when I look to him as the Answer.

So I guess Weak is s good Place to be. It’s the New Strong.

And the commentary says this:
“The last five Psalms are all praise and joy. This teaches us that ‘the Psalms are a miniature of our story as a whole, which will end in unbroken blessing and delight.'”

So… all Will be well in the world. No matter what.