In His Hands

I am not a person who naturally likes change.  I never have.  As a not-so-little girl, I cried when my younger sister insisted on rearranging the furniture in our bedroom.  I resisted change with all my might, good or bad, and wept about it when it happened.  I felt that there was enough change and adventure in the normal course of living.  So it is somewhat ironic that I have not lived in one place for more than two years since I became an adult. 

Hawaii, Utah, Spain, Utah again, California again, Florida, California again, Alabama, and now Alaska.  Another change. A new place, new people.

I wasn’t excited about this move. But once I got over the sulks, and prayed, and thought about this move, one thing was running through my head.

“He’s got the whole world in his hands,

The tropical luxury of Hawaii.

He’s got the whole wide world in his hands,

 The dusty elegance of Spain.

He’s got the whole world in his hands,

 The comfortable down-home feel of Alabama.

He’s got the whole world in his hands.”

 Even the wilderness of Alaska that awaits us.