Each morning when I lift my head off the pillow I choose. There was a time when a rush of dread accompanied the lifting of the head. Weight from some unknown source rested on my heart. Struggling to get through the simplest acts, I walked in darkness for many months. I quite literally had to walk it off. It started with my older children taking turns walking with me. But as the days went by I finally reached the point when I trusted that I would go alone.
In my struggle there was celebration. I think about that time often. Choosing seemed to be beyond my control. When I finally walked far enough and turned to come home I regained my will to choose joy.
Lifting my head and choosing joy is small act with stupendous consequences.
"But thou, oh Lord, art a shield for me; my glory, and the One who lifts my head."
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