Harder Days

I don’t know why some days are just harder days than others. Granted, we’ve been having basement issues lately, which complicates and frustrates things, and the kids can’t seem to beat a certain bug, but sometimes it is just plain harder for unknown reasons.


I would love an excuse like, “I’m extra tired.” I’m also partial to “My blood sugar must be low,” but I haven’t gotten to the bottom of a philosophical answer for it. Theologically it’s just “sin.” Sigh.

Anyway, I bring this back around to writers, because it is exactly that sort of day that reminds us we aren’t really all about the words. I got a perfectly lovely email with all the right words and my heart still sank down further. I jumped to the assumption, “That’s diplomatic language!” and succumbed to my day.

Some would say such hard days are a symptom of this problem: It’s “my day” rather than “the Lord’s Day.” I’m not entirely sure what that means, but okay. Personally, I might file such experiences away under affliction or anfechtung.

But I’m going to keep trying to write even though maybe I won’t be the best judge of the quality today (or ever) and I wish the same for you, too. I’m going to hope it passes quickly rather than settling in for the next six months for anyone affected by it or similar things.

Anyway, I got to introduce our kiddos to the original Annie recently, so at least I can remember tomorrow’s coming as is Jesus! (May that be as positive or negative as you need that to be. ;))


1 Comment

Filed under Writer Troubles, Writer's Life

One Response to Harder Days

  1. I’ve never thought of it that way–“some days are just harder than others”–I seem to attribute it to, “I must be coming down with something” or “he or she made me feel bad and now I have to figure out how to think about it differently so I can feel okay about it” or I did something really stupid. Hmmm…. but, when I do think about it, sometimes it is none of these. It is just a down day. This is why at age 68 and having maybe 20+ years of life left, I sometimes look at the clouds and just want Jesus to take me home. The good part of all this is that there is a light at the end of the tunnel. The Light is Jesus.

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