Musing on DEEP S*gar.
Help.
I can’t run.
Waaaa. (That’s supposed to be a baby cry.)
So hubby and I went walking while at the beach. We even talked about walking a marathon together.
I think this would be equivalent to a year’s worth of marital counseling. Walking a marathon together.
Any who.
We got to a point where the water looked too deep to cross. Now it wasn’t like a Western Movie where the horses were straining to keep their bulging eyes above water — but it was close to getting your clothes wet kind of deep.
It’s March at the beach in Georgia. Cold water.
No sirree.
A runner came along side. We all took off our shoes…and I waded in.
No. I had to turn back.
We all were going to turn back when my husband said, “I think that looks more shallow up there.”
Runner guy jumped in and tip-toed across…
I followed…
I made it.
We all made it.
Sometimes you just have to follow the tip-toeing red-headed runner dude
when God places him as your guide
and everything works out.
Albeit now there’s a little more grit in your socks.
