Tired and weary, worn down and burned out. You can’t find relief because you have no refuge. So let’s build a storm shelter together.
It’s the noise that wears you down. The ambient, in the background but all around you, stresses of life.
You’re the meat in the sandwich, and everyone wants a bite.
- Feelings and thoughts
The grind of the grindstone wears you down till nothing is left.
All you want to do is to go to a place where the streets have no names, no postal codes, and there’s no one hammering on your door.
I want to run, I want to hide
I wanna tear down the walls that hold me inside
I wanna reach out and touch the flame
Where the streets have no name. U2
My Mothers Bible
The other day I was flicking through my mother’s Bible and happened to come across a verse in the Psalms where she had marked with pen and added a date.
I checked the date with other memories of what was happening in the stream of her life at that time.
It was a time of struggle for my mother.
My father was unwell, and she was losing him. He died 82 days later, on October 3rd. She would follow him in ‘promotion to glory’ 166 days later.
I recently wrote about this in a guest post on Contemplative light – I’m Grateful For Ink
What a stormy time for us as a family that was.
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