Sunday
The Lord’s Day
I’m up
And ready
To Praise
You
In the
Season of
Not knowing
And it is
A season
Far longer than
I’d like to
Admit
I’m tired
Yet trying
To trust
What can’t
Be understood
Renew me
Like a mountain spring
That flows from
Your voice
To move
And sprout forward
Going into
The next
With hope
Even if
It’s on
An uneven path
Grounded in
Green grass
The birds
Chirping
The rooster
Crowing
And the sun
Drying
The clothes
On the line
Coming here daily
Sometimes feels
Like pulling teeth
Or sitting in confession
I’m not equipped
To understand
Either emotion
Right now
Right now
It takes
Energy
To put
One foot
In front of
The other