Runaway

           I’d runaway when I was a kid a few times. Usually I’d announce to my mother that I was running away. Then I’d hid behind the piano and eat a bologna sandwich until I’d made her sorry for scolding me. Or I’d go across to “Tarzan’s Jungle” and hid in a tree for hours. She never looked for me.

            But this time it was different. I was twenty-two and married when I  jumped into the car and ran away from home. I drove to a secret place to get God’s attention. I shut the car off and screamed, “I’m not going home until you tell me what to do. My husband is impossible.”

            It got dark. It got darker. Finally he spoke. “I’ve created the heavens and the earth and nothing is impossible for me.”

            “Is that all you have to say,” I screamed. I wanted specifics.

            Suddenly it hit me how funny it was to talk back to God. I began to laugh, and laugh, and laugh until my stomach hurt.

            Finally, because God had spoken to his little kid I was ready to go home to my possible situation.

Behold, I am the LORD the God of all flesh: is there any thing too hard for me? Jeremiah 32:27