The Struggle Is Real

I like rainy days – most of the time.

But not today.

Pounding drops on zinc roof, barely muffled by the ceiling beneath, nag and annoy. The forecast cold front still lingers near this bit of rock in the Caribbean Sea and I sympathize with my friends up north who are stuck with snow piles and temperatures below zero. My 18-degree temps cannot compare, but I shiver, pull on socks and attempt to think of warmer days.

There is a tingling sensation in my nostrils that reminds me of my childhood. Childhood days when I opened our chest freezer and bent my short frame all the way over to get to the Kisko pops Mom had stashed along with serve-me-longs for the hot summer days. This was the same tingling I felt when a blast of cold air hit my face and I made the mistake of inhaling.


Hormonal and nauseated, my itching face speaks of eczema making a comeback and I am undone — much like the unravelling of a much-loved sweater.

It is one those days.

One of those days when every sound is one sound too many and everyone within your sphere seems more exasperating than normal.

I am right in the middle of it, stumbling in this hard place and in need of hinds’ feet, but God is Faithful.

Beyond measure.

May today be a day thanksgiving and praise, even in the face of adversity.

Blessings to you and yours.

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