Wednesday was good. Like coming up to breathe after a long time inhaling the storm. I came to the end of that day and looked back. I had talked to several people - had really good conversations. It was strange to hear my own voice. Things on the outside have been quiet so long. It's inside where things have been happening. The questions, the conversations.... Only the tears had come out.
But Wednesday there was joy on the outside. Fresh air felt so good.
Thank you for the break, Lord.
Because today everything is back to this strange, new, abnormally normal state of the spinning out of control. Dreams haunt my nights, taunting me with a simplicity of life that becomes frustratingly illusive come sunrise. Tears stream like a perpetual river through my days - storm inhalation.
Will I wait another four months for the next breath?
And if so, God is still God, I am still His, and Heaven is still my highest hope.