1/11/22

I feel like I’m at the mouth of a deep pit.

It’s pitch black down there

Despair’s long fingers, like spiders legs,

Wrapped around me,

Threatening to pull me in.

I don’t resist, but I know I’m not going down there… not yet.

It must be God’s grace by the prayers of his people, preventing my drowning.

I don’t really want that particular prayer answered.

As black as it looks in the abyss, a large part of me wants to be pulled in.

At least then my outsides would match my insides.

Maybe I’m in shock, or maybe God is giving me grace to get through this.

But I don’t want grace.

I don’t want to go through this again.

Not again.

So here I am at the mouth of despair- not pulled in, but not free either.

What I want is my baby back.