Whence comes this all-encompassing

feeling of foreboding?

It catches me unawares

And takes over.

I want to slink away and hide.

But where would I go?

I can’t get away from myself.

What hope can You offer?

“I lift up my eyes to the hills—

From where will my help come?

My help comes from the Lord

Who made heaven and earth”

(Ps. 121:1-2, NRSVue).

In thee will I rest.

May it be so.

Blessed be.