Irritation and annoyance. Stewing in my juices. Fantasy conversations where the main martyr is I, stoic, heroic. Epic resentments, festering, boiling, churning. Seeking, in truth, no happy reconciliation. There's too much fat to chew in this pride and anger. The buzzing of my many personal demons, humming, tapping, dancing, stirring the blood, louder and louder, unrelenting. Then in my head a tiny prayer.
Lord make haste to help me. Lead me away from this. Teach me how to overcome this rot. Open my heart.
A deep breath. A slow uncoiling. Yes. Calm. Peace. Wonder. How does that work anyway? Holy Spirit, it’s you I thank. How does grace do what it does? God is good.