Something Still Not in Place

Something still isn't right, not in place. Nothing continues to be downright ill. Yes, the pain, the physical pain, always, and more intense this afternoon and into evening.

Something is not in order. Something is wrong. The thorn is the suffering, and nothing accepts it. Are there yet more thorns?

Nothing is somehow still convinced deep down into its soil that the Lord can remove and might remove the last remnant of that evasive weed root. Or, is this painful anguish something else besides physical pain and that desire to be freed totally from the thread? Wasn't it St. John of the Cross who said that a bird is hindered from flight even if tied but by a thread?

The whorling greens and refreshing interest of Hinoki Cypress "gracilis" contrasts with the riveting orange-sharp stick pain, grinding much energy from nothing. Yet it will go out and water some, breathe the hot evening air, cooling some minute by minute, and await dark, await whatever the Lord brings this night, and begin anew tomorrow.

Perhaps the root will be gone for good! In the Mary Gardens, there is such relief when nothing finally lugs back to the garage to get the weed prod, and uproots the remnants of particularly nagging weeds. Yes, others grow, but they are far easier to pull in totality, when small.

With such desire, can the Lord put me off for long? What just three hours ago seemed to be the answer, and make sense, and it still does, but there is yet something more to expose, even if the Lord wills to leave it in the nothing.

Nothing must do all it can, otherwise, such as to now take some over-the-counter pain reliever, and to get out into the Mary Gardens. To keep going, for while on earth, it will know earthly pain.
And to suffer this, whatever it is that is within, still not in place.

May God be praised for thorns and weeds and roots of weeds. Whatever He wills. He knows nothing's heart and plays it to His desires. Whatever is best.