It would be lovely, and cheesy, to put up a large flowery picture of JESUS.
However, while I’m sure it’s true, I’m not one of those people who has always felt him there like a numinous cloud hovering behind my left shoulder, offering support and reassurance. I’m very much a footprints-in-the-sand type of guy, often inferring his presence only when I look back at a single trail of footprints and realise we must have both been hopping.
Or however the poem goes.
So anyway, here is the agent Jesus chooses to use. I give you: Old Father Time.
So often, I’ve got through things simply by putting my head and down and being aware that the sun will still come up tomorrow and This Too Shall Pass. Even when “this” is a cricket game, which admittedly gives the impression of being able to slow down the advent of sunrise by some considerable degree.