Thursday

Thursday

the air is crisp this morning

the light of the November sun

is slowly finding its way through

the trees

as they stretch their limbs

and shake off their misty blankets

in the silence, O Lord, my soul waits

it’s easy to praise

Sunday and Friday

but come Monday

I’ve already walked away

trying to please a world that doesn’t want me

placed in the gap between

death and hope

and fear of the unknown

so come Thursday

my shoulders slump

my spirit sags

and I crave distraction from my ever failing self

Father God, help my unbelief

steadfast

your steadfast love

you are still

Comfort in my Sorrow

the Great Healer

Peace in the storm

How little I think of you Thursday

trying to gut

my way

trying to shove

my way through the day

when with You

in You

through You

In the silence, O Dear Lord, my soul waits

Abba Father God, help my unbelief

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