Jaci Dawn

I have been so achy and tired the past three days – so much so that I am thankful I do not have a job to report to because I truly would have just called in sick. I’m not sick, I just hurt everywhere and I’m so-so-so tired. I do not have an autoimmune disease but days like these halp me empathize with those who do (oh, and my thyroid is fine – I have it checked annually because of these episodes of pain and weariness).

January was a good month: I got up early to pray 5 days out of 7 every week. I spent 30-90 minutes each time communing with my God, telling Him/Her about my people, seeking wisdom, direction, inspiration, and praying for peace – not just my peace, but political peace, peace in this broken world, and peace in the hearts of family, friends, and strangers.

I accomplished quite a bit of decluttering throughout January. I started rereading a favorite saga (The Circle of Ceridwen by Octavia Randolph). I pruned the grapevine but forced myself to do no other gardening as February is often the coldest part of winter for us here.

And then.. Sunday morning. I slept until almost noon. I dragged all day.

I wasn’t much better Monday, except I managed to get out and buy necessary groceries and pay bills. I also managed to drop my debit card in the local grocery store – I didn’t notice until I was a a parking lot away at the liquor store. UGH. I had to hoof it back to the store and check at the Customer Service desk where, thankfully, my card was waiting for me. And hoof it back to the liquor store because I’m not driving across the parking lot when I can walk.

Last night, I fell into the easy chair and zoned into the television to finish a Norwegian series on Netflix (Ragnarok, a modern tale about a modern Thor, dubbed in English).

This morning, I got up early – and sank into the same easy chair only to fall asleep praying.

I felt so guilty. I’ve let God down. I haven’t powered through with my early morning prayer routine. I could not keep the vigil with Jesus (which is the argument the Church uses to make us feel guilty about our prayer practices – trust me, I “came of age” in one of those churches – hence the guilt).

Later, sipping coffee and scrolling Facebook (even though I told myself I was taking a break from social media), I stumbled across this meme.

Tell me that didn’t accidentally happen.

Thank you, Abba.