Today

The country road is dark and winding in front of me. My eyes fill with wet, and my heart beats with the anxiety I've tried to beat off all 15 hours of awake.

Flustered. Frustrated.

Exhausted. Enervated.

How can I move when I can't see the road in front of me?

I wonder this in the mind and the heart.

The letter of rejection comes. The door hits on the way out. The person says the wrong word.

The heart breaks and the eyes fill.

I don't know how to make beautiful words erupt from a tired heart. Just plain tired. No drastic hurt; no massive life disaster.

The sunrise didn't take away my breath this morning.

I didn't want to dance tonight.

I didn't choose the healthiest foods to eat.

I spoke harshly against one I love most.

And when the eyes fill and the heart beats in hurt, I hit my head against my headrest and don't understand why He has chosen me to fulfill what's in front of me.

"But Lord, you've promised me...'I have been put to no test but such as is common to man; and God is true, who will not let any test come on me which I am not able to undergo; but he will make with the test a way out of it, so that I may be able to go through it."(1 Corinthians 10:13) Jesus, where is that confidence? I merely feel pressure. Exhaustion...Lord, bring me through this."

And in the nighttime Oldham County air, He whispers, "Today."

That's it.

Today.

T-o-d-a-y.

My brain flits to an event five days away; my heart pounds in response.

"Today." His peace tickles the crevices of my heart.

The enemy crawls in...slowly...as he reminds of a failure last week.

"Today," the Father says a bit firmer.

I struggle to fight for that place in my brain; my knuckles turn white on the steering wheel.

I turn on my brights.

"Today is what I do best, my love."

I see a bit better. Not all the way down the road, but just enough to let me progress with vision.

"Why are you looking behind? Why are you grappling for the next 24 hours? Don't you know each day is a precious endowment?"

I round a corner to face a large hill. Two skunks cross the road.

I drive with the radio blasting, and somehow, the lyrics aren't anything but letters pieced into words I can't understand.

"Oh, my daughter. You've missed so much today."

Tears buckle in my throat.

"That sunrise...I painted it. That lesson...I ordained it. That friend...I put them there when you needed that word. That chicken noodle soup...I created warmth. That little Asian hand...I brought it from China to America. That breeze...I blew it into motion."

A little brick crumbles from the wall built around my heart.

"Let me in."

My house becomes visible. I speed up a little. The light glows from the kitchen window. The familiar structure of the front porch brings me comfort.

"Let me in."

Conviction fractures another brick.

The front wheels; the back wheels. I pull into the driveway.

"Okay, Jesus."

Arms loaded with memorabilia of the day, I punch in the garage code.

Home's familiar smell greets my nose.

Okay.

Today.

Warmth, comfort, pain, turmoil.

Today.