Quiet Comfort

Yesterday was just not one of my better days.

There wasn't anything specifically horrible, other than my computer deciding it wasn't going to work anymore. And considering the seriousness of a computer crash, I handled the stress pretty well. (Though I have backups of most of my stuff, it wasn't super recent. My biggest concern was my formatted-for-publishing manuscript of Corizen Rising, which in some brain-dead fashion I had never backed up.) I guess I also had the disappointment of thinking that my husband had the day off only to find out that he had to work. That's never fun.

But for whatever reason, by the evening I was a bona fide mess. I didn't take it out on the kids (except at the very end, when near 10pm they were still not getting into bed). But I used reading as a coping mechanism throughout the day, and when I finished my book I came back to reality to find that the kids had trashed the house while I was not mentally present. (Whose bright idea was it to throw eggs on the patio???)

Bedtime was not a specific relief because I don't sleep well anymore. I'm sickest at night, and I stay nauseous all night (which I know because I have to get up to pee at least 3 or 4 times). So by the time I had reached the point in my day that I needed to pray and then crawl into bed, I had reached some real gloomy lows. My thoughts were extremely negative. That obnoxious, critical voice in my head was in full gear, and I was not nice to myself. My prayer was not very helpful-- I was mostly going through the motions rather than sincerely communicating with God, so as I burrowed down into my covers I was also beating myself up for not even praying like I'm supposed to. This was getting nearly to the point of being a full guilt fest, with me convincing myself that God was horribly disappointed in me and I would never live up to all that I should.

And then a quiet but quite distinct impression entered my mind saying essentially, "No, that's not right. Jesus loves me, and Heavenly Father loves me." That was all. Nothing grand or significant. But it comforted me right off and I was able to go to sleep and silence the terribly destructive critic in my head.

Sometimes miracles are so small and quiet, you don't even realize that's what they are. But they are still miracles.