Maybe if I say it again and again and again...
Find rest O my soul, in God alone.
My hope comes from Him.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Unsure (The Kind of Day)
This has been an odd sort of day.
The kind that sort of never ended from yesterday, because sleep was even more fleeting than usual.
The kind where you greet the morning by sobbing for a couple of hours.
The kind where you wonder why on earth your heart has to be so soft, so sensitive.
And why on earth the myriad of things that cause that heart to hurt won't go away.
The kind where you definitely have to treat yourself to the Macdonald's breakfast you've been craving for weeks.
The kind where you're really grateful you had a massage appointment scheduled.
The kind where a headache lingers, coming and going all day.
And where you nap for a few hours mid-afternoon, half-way curled up under a blanket, on a bed with no sheets, since the sheets are in the laundry.
The kind where you read a chapter in the book you're working through and wonder when it became possible for a book to make total sense and absolutely no sense at all at exactly the same time.
The kind where you write a blog post listing what kind of day it's been, because your heart is unsure how to find itself amidst the day.
The kind that sort of never ended from yesterday, because sleep was even more fleeting than usual.
The kind where you greet the morning by sobbing for a couple of hours.
The kind where you wonder why on earth your heart has to be so soft, so sensitive.
And why on earth the myriad of things that cause that heart to hurt won't go away.
The kind where you definitely have to treat yourself to the Macdonald's breakfast you've been craving for weeks.
The kind where you're really grateful you had a massage appointment scheduled.
The kind where a headache lingers, coming and going all day.
And where you nap for a few hours mid-afternoon, half-way curled up under a blanket, on a bed with no sheets, since the sheets are in the laundry.
The kind where you read a chapter in the book you're working through and wonder when it became possible for a book to make total sense and absolutely no sense at all at exactly the same time.
The kind where you write a blog post listing what kind of day it's been, because your heart is unsure how to find itself amidst the day.
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