Thot’s are tumbling ’round in my head,
My brain will not be still.
Thoughts of who I was,
Who I am,
And Who God has for me to be.

Around the bend,
Over the hill,
Across the ocean’s depths
My journey is long and wearying.

What is the Master’s plan?
What did HE create in me to be?
What is HIS purpose?

Cleaning is therapy.
Straightening the order of the physical;
A reflection of the work of the Spiritual.

Pain finds its way in;
Forgiveness heals.
Worry pushes and hammers at the door;
Faithfulness quiets the noise.
Anger rages;
Gentleness soothes.
Weariness overwhelms;
Strength comes in the shelter of the Rock.
Confusion torments;
Trust fights back.
Sadness comes in waves, threatening to drown,
Peace that passes understanding reaches out and pulls the swimmer into the boat.
Voices scream out for attention, trying to distract the one on the journey;
ONE quiet whisper, “BE STILL AND KNOW THAT I AM GOD.”

The battle is won.

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