I don’t want to.

I can’t seem to muster up the strength to clean up the same messes, again, today.

The outside rain; a dreadfully perfect backdrop for this terrible mood. My stomach is bloated again and the acid churns it’s way into my chest and throat, continually burning like a lit flame.

I won’t play the guessing game of what I ate, I’ve been merely sipping water. I survey the room of unpacked suitcases with contents that present opportunity and warmer days, but even the warmer days didn’t take her away from herself.

It feels as though spring will never come and I will forever fight this battle of pressing through.

I just want to get it right. All of it. A good steward of both time and gifts, eyes fixed on eternal things. But I’m stuck in these moments and they feel permanent.

Lord, guide me through this fog.