There will be times when it feels safer to sit, to hide in a foetal position under the bedclothes, to crawl under a symbolic rock. My preferred location is sitting under a pile of manure, the stench keeps people away, it is warm and once the damp is in your bones it is comforting. I sat for many, many years under a dung pile. Last week someone reminded me how spiky I was if anyone got close, autres temps, autres mœurs.
I have never in my life felt so exposed, so vulnerable and so excited by it, I know I should be returning to my heap of manure, I know it is what I have always done, I kowtowed to it a little by turning off my chirpy tweets and status updates on Twitter and Facebook, but I can’t stay in that place anymore.
This metaphor might not appeal to everyone. The difference as I see it between a snail and a slug is the shell. Both can be killed by salt but only the slug has no protection at all. So maybe I am a slug rather than a snail. On the way over the county bounds, there is a solitary tree it has been there at least four years. The forestry stripped its brothers and sisters and left it all alone. No longer part of a forest but on its own exposed to all the weather fronts passing by, it has survived so maybe I am a little like that lonely tree stuck on its own with no supports but with huge roots to keep it firm in the storm.
No one will believe this that are in this neck of the woods but I just saw a glimpse of pink on the furthest most cloud. The clouds are black, grey and all shades in between, the sun is setting in the west behind this bank of clouds but just let this little piece of pink through a good end to a frightfully dull, bleak, grey three hours.
I have had my manure time it is time to stand up, rise up, arise for Jesus, the Son of God who saved me. I am so grateful that after years of manure living, once out of the pit, there is no going back. Oh, I could choose to wallow in my misfortune, as I have many times before but I just feel it is better to stand with Jesus than hide my head in the sand