It is a good day for rain.
I sit here wondering if the fog is outside or inside my brain.
Wrapped in fleece I sip from a hot mug of chicken broth,
only because we have always been told that chicken soup cures everything.
I try to inhale the steam.
My stomach seems less than pleased. My head pounds with a rhythm of its own.
And this one, who daily chooses to leave self behind is self-occupied
the flesh cries out for attention
I want to fight and I want to give in
and all I can do is heed the words He spoke this morning:
Lean into Me.
