Goodbye, Rug

Whenever I feel like I have my feet planted firmly on the ground,

what should happen other than the rug on which I’m standing

is pulled right out from beneath my feet!

But there’s none of that movie nonsense.

I don’t stay in the same place

(neat and tidy and unscathed)

when the rug vanishes.

Get real.

The rug gets pulled out from beneath my feet

and I land rear first on the ground.

Usually pretty hard.

But no matter how many times I lose my rug

(and exclaim something about the end of the world and approaching doom)

a funny thing happens.

Life goes on.

At every turn when I look back on my extensive resume

of mistakes and failures and falsely declared Armageddon’s,

I find that my failures have displayed two life essentials.

1. I cannot do this.

2. God can.

Because in the midst of my mistakes

there is one thing that has remained the same.

There is one constant, one absolute, one mighty truth.

I am fiercely and sweetly and deeply loved

by the maker and creator of this universe.

That trumps impending doom any day.