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Necessary things

Woke to the knot in my stomach again. Anxiety collects there overnight and surfaces in irrational fixations on less-important details and nebulous fears. The real trouble of the soul remains there in the pit, obscured by the smokescreen, ready to pull every free-floating worry and guilt to itself in the small hours of the morning. I stayed in bed for two more hours, wrestling with half-dreams of spiders and undone tasks. None of these things is my true disquiet.

The waking world will be better, I hope. I need to get things done and I need to pray. I need to pray a lot— not as some last-ditch effort to escape trial, but to spend time really being with the One who is most important to me. To talk with Him about my heart and to delight in His presence, to experience not only His forgiveness, but His unfathomable, unbelievable delight in me.

Wish the things I need to do weren't as pressing, but I'm on a clock. Tick-tock tyranny and ducks to put in a row. It gets easier once I get in the groove; for now, I only feel behind.

He's still good. I know this.


loved the first paragraph (are you ok?); raskolnikov's cupboard slips into mind (ah, lee, you should read!)

Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart. The really great men must, I think, have great sadness on earth. - Fyodor Dostoevsky, Crime and Punishment