Recently in my Bible reading, there's a lot about fighting and victory and courage.
So this morning, weakened b y my recent hospital stay (the reason for my absence last week), exhausted about two out of three sleepless nights, I remembered an image I had used of chicks sheltering beneath their mother's wings, and I prayed, Lord, please make this a shelter day, not a fighting day.
Different seasons. Nothing new about the concept day. And I recognize that days like this, the physical aspects are often the fight.
But today I need, I crave, comfort.
As I lay on my bed, my legs cramping, crying, screaming from fun, for the first time, I could understand why someone facing unending pain would choose to end their lives. It no longer seemed so outrageous. And that fact is scary by itself.
I tried to put a good face on it. As I spasmed and pain pressed, I tried to make it a sacrifice. May this pain --spasm--help to complete--spike of pain--Your sufferings. Gasp, screech.
I tried to redirect my thoughts. To think of at least ten words for each letter of the alphabet that describe God. I got as far as i, I think. I AM! Imminent. In me. (I was stretching.) Before I gave it up.
A soft feather soft bed, eyes sheltered against the bright sun, sounds like a pretty place to be right now.
Too bad I didn't get to S.