Mid-week comes with the feeling of tiny people running sandpaper across the back of my throat. The inability to swallow. A trip to a walk-in clinic and white-coats poking sticks down my throat.

And it’s really hard to put it all in flowery terms, wrap it up in a bow and say, “This really is a terrific way to spend a Wednesday!”

Because it’s just not what I had in mind.

My regenerated heart is strange though. It’s turned inside out or something.

Because I find myself spraying my throat with medicinal things and thanking God for another reminder of how much I need Him.

Thanking Him for sickness to show my frailty. My lack of control.

He gives me what I need.

Shows me all I need.

Him.