California does something for me.
The sweet breeze in the evening, the wash of cool air in the morning ... the warmth of Bernie, snuggled up tight against me as I wake, the enthusiastic welcome of my granddaughter Lillian when she hears my voice...
I had a brief but virulent panic attack this morning, heart hammering, breath short, vision spinning. Alex drove us to church, where I only broke down into tears twice. Fr. Peter Carota hugged me after church, (that would be the second time I broke down) and gave me a blessing for healing.
He told me to give my hurts up to God to handle, to let them go, and told me that letting go was an act of prayer.
Okay. I'm letting go. I'm praying.
1 comment:
I am happy to hear you made it home.
Many hugs! Talk later.
Post a Comment