The only constant is change.  Seasons seem the same, but are eternally different.  Moves happen, death separates, and the tiny folds in my cheeks grow deeper.  I say goodbye to people that I choose to leave behind; and some don’t even give me a farewell and disappear.

With all this variation in human life, you’d think we’d get used to it.  But there is this hilarious illusion that things have to remain the same.  “It’s the way we’ve always done it.”  “It’s tradition.”  And of course, obsessive habit demands that it stay the same in the face of complete and utter destruction.

Perhaps I am just like many humans–hard to learn to bend at the knees, cry when I need to and move on.

Today I know I am in a little boat with a big God–we keep bumping into each other and laughing and laughing and laughing.  What fun this life is holding hands with Her!