I started redefining "days" years ago. What makes a good day good? What makes a bad day bad? If a two-minute phone call (with a mean person) can ruin a day, then can't a perfect cup of tea redeem it? How many in-a-rows of stuff does it take to really meet the good-bad qualifier?
Today had one of those two-minute moments. A moment that can wreck if I let it, or just be a moment that informs and redirects. I'm not sure which way it's going.
I was fine earlier. As the day progresses, my heart has started racing. This could be hormones. Could be weather. Could be worry. I'm worried it's worry.
Satan knows when to attack. He's immortal. He's got literally nothing better to do with his time than wait for me to feel weak and exploit it. He finds my frailty hilarious. He has every advantage. He is lord of this world. God gave him that after the Fall. Every physical part of me is under his control, if God allows it.
I'm in that pre-exhausted moment when I look ahead and see the work to be done and I just can't. I don't want to do it. Not again.
I don't have to take all the steps. I only have to take the next step. Whatever that is.
Five months ago, I felt exactly this way. I couldn't see a way out. I didn't think it would ever be OK. But it was. It can be again. One day at a time. One step at a time. We can do this. We can keep swimming. God is here.
Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who mercifully restores my soul within me. Great is Your faithfulness.