Yesterday I did a wobble maneuver that skewed the view of my circumstances. I chose to give vent to my frustrations. Not outwardly. You wouldn’t have been able to tell. I looked the same.
But I talked nonstop in my head, which catapulted me into a headlock of unhelpful proportions.
I was on the brink of teetering, because I wasn’t focused properly. Oh Lord, let the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be pleasing and acceptable to You. They certainly aren’t pleasing and acceptable to me. And if I wrote them down or spoke them aloud, they certainly wouldn’t garner me an “atta girl” from anyone.
But today is a new day. It’s a multitude of minutes to try again. To reorient my thinking to biblical proportions.
I love fresh mercies that blot out stagnant memories.