It's been weeks since I've felt caught up on sleep.
Nearly a month since I've written in my journal.
More than a month since I've really read a book.
Days since I've had a good hour to dig into the Word.
~~~~~~~
It's been a while since I've felt in control.
On top of my happening life.
Ahead enough to plan for new things.
~~~~~~~
Most days I feel like I barely keep my head above water.
Like it's a struggle just to stay current with day-to-day events.
Then taxes loom in front of me.
And expenses descend upon me.
And my room's a mess.
And there are emails unwritten.
And phone calls unmade.
~~~~~~~
My spirit begins to cry out in thirst for true Water.
And my soul begins to shrivel in the cold.
And my temper's suddenly short and brittle.
And in desperation, I finally throw myself at Your feet.
~~~~~~~
Ignoring the thousands of chiming voices -
The hundreds of chores and to-dos yet undone.
The clamor grows louder, but I know, yes, I know.
First things not put first only grow desperate cries.
~~~~~~~
I'm at the end of my rope.
With naught but a frayed strip 'twixt my fingers.
With naught but a frayed strip 'twixt my fingers.
And I can't afford to listen to the canyon, deep below.
So in pain, hands bleeding, muscles quivering, I focus -
Focus, on the rope, held taut, far above me.
And the deafening cries subside.
And I'm drawn up by You.
And I realize that, here, I always should dwell:
At the end of my rope.
