Sheila's Dribs 'n Drabs

We were needy when our basement flooded; wet, on our knees, packing boxes of washed-out memories into the trash. We were loved when friends from church and community gathered to help us out. But now I hurt. Is it wrong to mourn lost memories... lost stuff... the stuff of my dreams... when I know so many others have lost so much more?

Did God flood my basement to stop me wasting time writing? Did Satan flood it to stop me writing the things God called me to write? Or are flooded basements just life in a broken world?