It was just here, but I can’t seem to find my giddy-up these past few days. And this makes me nervous.
Maybe it’s the clouds, the temperature, the time of year. Something logical.
Right about now, the good girl in me should come up with a pep talk and give my bootstraps a good yank. Pick myself up and push through. But it’s not happening.
And how quickly my HOPE shifts to fear.
Maybe the lazy streak I hide so well is finally taking over.
Maybe I’m letting myself drift away from something (or Someone) vital.
Maybe I’ve made a turn onto that wide road I’m so afraid of inadvertently ending up on.
Someone light a fire under me.
Maybe I’m tired because . . . . I’m tired.
Maybe I've come to a stop because that’s what is needed.
Maybe this malaise isn’t a symptom of something sinister in me,
but a gentle invitation.
After all, I can’t receive rest until I’m willing to admit that I’m weary.
“You, oh Lord, keep my lamp burning.”