Just deserts
by Dianna Brown

We all go through them.

I know that is little comfort when you are in the middle of yours where your lips are cracked and bleeding. Your skin is like parchment paper and you would sell your soul to satan for a drop of cool water. Times like that always make you feel so alone. You cry out for help and it seems as if your cries bounce off the rocky walls of the cave you have sought for shelter from the burning sunlight during the day and the bone chilling cold of the nights.

No matter how hard you try.
No matter how hard you look.
All you can see is endless stretches of hot burning sand full of unknown dangers and perils.

There seems to be no way out. In fact, you are so sure that this place will be the end of your days that you no longer even try very hard to get out of the desert. In a perverted sort of way, the desert has become home. You know every nook and cranny. You know every crack in the walls of your cave. You even know the time of day by the sound of the wind. It may not be the best place you have ever been but it is familiar. You have a desire to leave, but not the energy.

There is one thing about deserts that so many people over look. There is a beauty there. There is a purpose of life there. Deserts make us stronger. They temper us. They are the baking chambers of God. The places he uses to finish the work He started on his potter's wheel.

So the smart thing to do when in a desert is rejoice. What is coming out of that place is well worth the agony suffered there.