A mysterious day, twitching, muscles relenting, not able to rest, nor sleep will obey. I drink the Camomile tea out of my ‘pyjama day’ mug, hoping it will ease me, stop me flitting and faffing about.
Unease and unrest try to steal productiveness, the unused adrenaline stifles my creativity, pending doom, a cloud overhangs.
I try to decide whether to step into the cloud and succumb to its drench trenches. Or to simply look beyond it, and assert myself to face the day, despite being overwhelmed by a tiredness that makes my bones feel decayed.
Choices in a moment are tough, sometimes I go the wrong way. If only I remember to pick Jesus, this day would be a better day. Its not like I ignore him, or decide to leave him out, sometimes my mind throws tangles and shapes hallucinate as my eyes cloud like glaucoma taking its bout.
I find the more I fight, the more the fog falls, so instead I put on music, worship and pray. It’s the only way I find peace on a day like today.
So I remind myself again, its the truth that I know; that Prayer, makes everything better, brings peace, brings my heart beat down, slow.
I listen to the still, small voice; I know I am OK. I know that my Spirit is in charge again, which is vitally crucial; not just on a day like today!