The Porch Swing

I must look like a walking contradiction. I go to the doctor, sick as a dog. Sick. Coming out of his office, I run into an old friend and stifle my cough and queasiness, mustering enough energy to sound great when I tell her that's how I am. Why can't I just tell her that I'm sick when she asks how I've been?

In my quiet time Sunday morning before church, I am beside myself with grief, as I pour my heart out to the Lord, "I want my son!," I cry. But later at church when asked how I am, I answer, "Good! How about you?"

I've been sick for 6+ weeks, I haven't slept in more than 2-3 hour increments for months, my son has disappeared again and I am NOT fine. I feel like I'm holding on by a thread some days but almost no one knows because I have this weird aversion to worrying people who care about me.

I think I need to learn to trust that people who ask how I am really want to know. And then I need to learn how to sit down and tell them.