A morning transformed

This morning, lying in bed still after 6:00, I tried to figure out what was going on with me. I did not want to get out of bed. I did not want to leave my house. I did not want to drive to Chattanooga and see people at church.  Exhaustion was my primary feeling, deep down below the nodding off sleepy level. This happens sometimes, and I have never wanted to call it depression, because I wasn't sad. Then I realized what word described me. 

Depleted. 

It's a good word. It means empty, but more than that--"emptied." Drained. I did an inventory of my life over the last month, the last year, the last five and then ten years. That added to my sense of depletion. 

Yesterday I did not leave the yard, but I did write 6000 words and do five yards of laundry and survey a dead tree in my yard that needs felling and talked to my recently widowed neighbored and some new ones. I read Trollope. I felt useless and .... depleted. 

We are all depleted, whether we sense it or not, if we are not dependent on abundant grace we have to draw from. It's not a matter of its not being there; it is a matter of our drawing from the well. 

So I return to Psalm 30, which I have been contemplating. Verses 11 and 12. "You have turned my mourning into dancing. You have put off my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness. To the end that my glory (soul) may (not will--I have a choice) sing praise to you and not be silent forever (starting now). Oh LORD my God, I will give thanks to You."

My desire to be around God's people returned. I am part of a body, not a dismembered limb or digit.