We're up early on this Saturday and about to make an assault on our favorite No Frills supermaket (l kg. jar of Kraft peanutbutter for $2 today, etc.). I've not felt like writing here--too much "stuff" happening--and it's been relegated way down on the priority list.

But right now, while Charity makes toast and tea (to take with her as we burn rubber all the way up the parkway to Eglington Avenue and our Shopping Shangri-La) I will write.

I've been thinking deeply lately (an old habit) and yesterday, since I was feeling wretched about something (a longstanding issue that won't go away) I began meditating on the last part of Romans 8. That's where Paul says that "nothing" can separate us from the love of Christ: not all sorts of horrible affliction, or even death. Those of us who've been around for a while can tend not to take such familiar words seriously, but yesterday I thought, "yes, this thing that's bugging me--destroying my happiness--it can't separate me from the love of Christ."

In other words, when I'm really trusting God, that thing--that situation, that issue--is being handled. It's being taken care of. I can "fuggedaboudit". Even if I feel helpless and unable to change anything or whatever, it doesn't matter, because, as another scripture says, "my life is hid in Christ in God." If that's where my life is, then that's also where this issue is.

Believing that, at last, I began to feel relief...

Well, now I've gotta get off the computer so C. can check her e-mail.

All for now...