Our nursling nectarine blossoms; whether the tenuous rosy blossoms become fruit is subject to forces we can mitigate somewhat, but would not presume to control. Things, for instance, like the 24 mph gusts that blew here Saturday. A blossom is something like a promise, in the sense that it is organized with the provision to generate, in this case, a nectarine. But neither its promise nor its promised provision is eternal. Original sin put an end to that. The promise will be restored. But not yet.
Morning by morning, Coolidge continues to manifest new mercies. He’s eating the highest protein kibbles we could find, as well as his low-carb canned food. His glucose has been topping 400, but hey–he’s sustaining his weight! Insulin can chase the numbers, but at some point, it can’t catch up and contain them. We’re there, and it could certainly be worse. I’ve had to recognize that his problems bending his legs are not just about arthritis. It’s become evident that he is presenting late-stage diabetic neuropathy. But hey–he can jump up onto chairs and onto the bed. He just has trouble crouching down, so his litter-box aim is thrown off. But hey–some genius entrepreneur came out with potty pads to fill the gap. We live in amazing times!
God’s love is His eternal promise of eternal provision. For now, the primal sting restricts our view to the finite, but not entirely. Through faith, we are given small, but sustaining, apertures through which to see something entirely better.