Increasingly, it is difficult for me to wake up. It takes more coffee and more sitting before I can begin the daily routine.
Some of this is illness, but a lot of it is due to my own irresponsibility with making the right choices.
The simple choices to eat throughout the day, to get enough rest, to not push myself. The elementary choices I somehow make for my children on a daily basis but not for myself.
And then there is the choice of finding gratitude amidst affliction.
The place I'm in is not restrained to the physical. I do not have to be captive to my body's constraints. I can turn to God, go to the inner chamber and allow that to become my place. My place of rest and refuge.
So, I'm on the floor listening to Misty Edwards.
The dog (who might be an angel) comes and lays by me. The baby comes and snuggles up against me. God comes. He meets me there and there is the only place I need to be.
What To Do in a Crisis of Faith
1 day ago