My Refuge

Cold dark night, the street lit by the occasional lamp, an old man tarries at a doorway, dressed in worn cloth, hunger about his face, he turns from the door of the B’n’B, rejected, he paws his way down the narrow path, exhausted, a bed for the night, or death in an alley, it’s bitter, the wind is cutting. It’s terrible when you have to depend on someone taking pity on you, in order to find relief.

He bumps into a Samaritan as he exits through the small gate. It’s a well to do neighborhood. Ten minutes later he is in a warm bed. He found his refuge.

Solomon is having an emotional moment, sprouting off on the blessings he is receiving. The weather is turning dank, the sky darkening, there is a lot to be thankful for, ignoring the weather. He enters the sanctuary that never fails, the holy place. it’s wise to remind yourself of who is in charge. No one will steal this, and the comfort you find,particularly in a storm, whatever the storm is, there are many ways of describing one, a failed life, a great loss, or fear, inside this sanctuary there is never any fear, even if those of the demon sometimes try to intimidate those inside;they are never successful, while marking themselves in the eyes of God.

The wind blows, rain batters the roof, but the air inside is calm, stronger than any rock. Solomon sits, there is always things that need a mention. In times of trouble the apostles only had to ask Jesus, the harm runs, the waters calm, the wind fades away, it’s written. The howling intensifies, its nearly closing time, the kind face of One of God’s chosen emerges,a glad smile on his face. He has to close up, its late in the evening. The weather outside is bad, wait awhile he says, then retreats to where he emerged from. Thoughtful man sighs Solomon. In a minute or two the weather will ease, as sure as sure is, the Most High God hears the prayers of this humble community.

Five minutes later, Solomon emerges into the night, the wind calm, the rain gone. He walks the street, wondering where to get a takeout. She is behind the counter, a neighbor, has a peaceful countenance. How ordinary people do small things that make a great difference. The refuge that God provides sometimes goes ignored,but it’s always there for those who actually believe, thanks.

Back to the old man, next day he is having breakfast in the kitchen, regaling another of Gods chosen with stories of old. Is it not wonderful, God never forgets those small acts of goodwill, amen. on the other side, what does He think of pure meanness.

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