Anticipating . . .

I feel like I just bathed in mud. My tears mixed with the dirt of me.

The house is empty so I go shower but don't ask the usual question. Today my prayers are all about me. Begging and bargaining to not go back to that place seventeen years ago. To that panic.

How many more bad days before a good one? Maybe as many as I wallow in? I loathe self-pity but can't seem to escape it. People are hurting, sick. People are killing babies while my baby sister cries herself to sleep wanting one. Loss of jobs, fear of loss of jobs, cancer taking children, hunger.

And I'm sad. Here with my lovely life I can't seem to escape this sadness.

At one point so much salt water mixes with pure till there is no seperation and I demand an answer.

What is wrong with me?

Why can't I hear you?

Where is my rescue?

Aren't you coming?

I stare at myself in the mirror, a sun-burnt face from a fair missing fair weather.  I close my eyes and pray for that beauty.  That beauty called grace.  A shower of grace.

A wash from heaven. 

It will come.  It always does.  He doesn't move and in my stumbling I will soon find.  He will draw me and woo me and I will find Him.

Maybe this season will continue, maybe nothing will change but the wash of grace. 

But that will change everything.

"Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need." Hebrews 4:16