It was his fault for his premature celebration. for his changing nature.
No. Not him.She was to blame. She became furious with herself.
It was God's fault, for taunting her as He had. For not granting her what He had granted so many other women. For dangling before her, tantalizingly, what He knew would give her the greatest happiness, then pulling it away.
But it did no good, all this fault laying, all these harangues of accusations bouncing in her head. It was sacrilege, to think these thoughts. God was not spiteful. He was not a petty God.
She remembered..
"Blessed is He in Whose hand is the kingdom, and He Who has power over all things, Who created death and life that He may try you."
Ransacked with guilt, she would kneel and pray for forgiveness for these thoughts.
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