I counted tonight. I’ve been coughing for nearly 7 weeks.
Then I think of those with actual chronic diseases and feel guilty for wallowing. The mud is right there, just inches from my feet, so easy to slip into, almost beckoning me off the toilsome hike.
“Come, rest here, throw a pity party.”
Sometimes, the path grows slippery from my tears. They’ve flowed more freely the last few days.
Worn down? Discouraged by the hard words of others? Beaten down by expectations? Jealous of another’s success? Maybe all of the above.
I beat the tears off my face as I shift and brake, stop and go my way to work. I cannot break down in the office.
I sing along with Christa Wells, and the tears back away. The wallowing loses its appeal. I can move forward and find something to be thankful for.
81. “Yum! This is good, mom!” from all the kids for a new recipe
82. The warmth of chili in the belly
83. Our church’s singles who volunteer to lead game night for our children once a month
84. Date night!
85. Cheap pizza after a long day at work
86. A sister who spends a day each week with the kids
87. Soft warm scarves on a windy day
88. A notebook and a smooth-writing pen
90. Shelter as another winter storm bears down