I had become accustomed to less writhing than more. It is back to more. Of the past week, nightly. Hours in agony brings me back to despair and my wordless pleas to God ... though for what I no longer know. Strange, for me, to longer desire death as my release. Yet what else is there from this ... existence? With the times of all my other medications, I was trying to avoid the activated charcoal. Weeping, I now call myself a fool. and yet in the midst of it all, I find myself rather oddly wondering what mercy is it that I beg ... shamefully ... from God?
I am also back in that place where no matter what or how much I drink my thirst is never slaked. Such a small thing in the midst of the agony that is abdomen so swollen I wish for someone to slash it open just for relief. Thinking, primarily that such an action would also stay the nausea and dizziness. Yet all the drinking makes me wonder if I might merely just explode.
And in the midst of all of this are my jumbled thoughts of water ... having begun to notice, with all my labeling of the psalms in my Praying the Psalter blog, just how often water comes up.
Sometimes, I am the woman at the well, wondering what in the world Jesus means by Living Water. What an odd moment for her that must have been ... hearing of something unknown and immediately being filled with longing for it.
Which leads to another label: How Long. The Psalter is filled with that question. For years, know, I have been fascinated by the fact that the question is shared by both Triune God and man within the Scriptures.
Could it be that somewhere deep within my wordless cries to God is that question?
Would that it were I could retain the Words of the Psalter within me so that I might, in such times, pluck from my mind the ones that speak of my heart and offer them to God. I know they are there. I just cannot remember them.
I am Yours, Lord. Save me!
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