May the mountains yield prosperity for the people, and the hills, in righteousness. May he defend the cause of the poor of the people, give deliverance to the needy, and crush the oppressor.
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I AM, among other things, the oppressor of a rubber tree plant. I have one that grew too big. I pruned it. It grew again. I was told it wasn't good to have its' fast growing roots so close to the foundation of the house. It gave me the excuse I needed to kill it. I hacked it to the stump. I asked a neighbor kid to pull out the stump. It wouldn't budge. I hacked it some more and drown it with weed killer. I left it exposed during freezes. It is right now a gigantic, healthy rubber plant that visitor's compliment and inquire about the magic of my green thumb. This plant is totally God's doing. I have been its' evil oppressor. It stands as a testimony of God's deliverance and my futile destructiveness. I wonder what else or, worse, who else I have oppressed and after which God has to clean up after me? This psalm is comfort for the afflicted and affliction for the comfortable.
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I am listening, Lord. Amen.
Deb Grant, resilient child of God, creative tinker of paper, ink, wood, shiny things, paint and words. The human amusement of a parrot and a dog.
Writer, poet, artist, human, citizen, learner, scruffy, goof.
Word Food by Deb is randomly published. More than weekly, less than daily at the following media sites: