Today is a very rough day with my chronic illness. I barely know how to keep going, to be honest with you. It was preceded by a night of tears, and I did not feel much like praying this morning. But I’ve lived long enough to know that it is precisely at times like this that prayer is even more important than usual. Even if it is asking other people to do it for me.
It’s days like this where even an innocent blanket can look like a raging sea, where the exhaustion wraps itself around me like miles of kelp and pulls me under. These kind of depths are full of potential. They can become sea monsters, full of fear and doubt, worse, self-pity, or a powerless, tiring rant; or they can be given over to God and become a lament, a sobbing prayer, a silent, dull, duvet-coddled sort of day. A day when I ask friends to pray for me and tell God I don’t understand but I love him and know he is good, a strange, grey, unusual blogging sort of a day, where my words might reach someone else drifting in the same sort of painful, difficult, world-weary boat, and we might both receive some kind of solace from knowing we are not the only ones on this quietly terrifying ocean.
Photo and text © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2017