count my blessings

Brocken Inaglory [GFDL ( or CC BY-SA 4.0 (, from Wikimedia Commons

I am.

Like a moon full or new. A tide waining or flooding. A day born or sleeping. A gift given or received. A breath expelled or drawn. A furrowed brow, a creased grin. A forgotten moment, a found moment. A despair and a jig. A hug across the virtual kitchen table we share. A cuppa shared in silence. I am you are ((hugs))

From Psalm 130

Song of ascents 

A song of ascents.
Out of the depths I cry to you, Lord;
    Lord, hear my voice.
Let your ears be attentive
    to my cry for mercy.
If you, Lord, kept a record of sins,
    Lord, who could stand?
But with you there is forgiveness,
    so that we can, with reverence, serve you.
I wait for the Lord, my whole being waits,
    and in his word I put my hope.
I wait for the Lord
    more than watchmen wait for the morning,
    more than watchmen wait for the morning. ( Psalm 130:1-6 NIV)

BibleGateway. 2019. A searchable online Bible in over 150 versions and 50 languages.. [ONLINE] Available at:
. [Accessed 15 January 2019].

Meaning – site is not secure

Paul has given me more than a glimmer of light yet I must climb out of my pit – Paul has given me the stars and a jig and a virtual cup of cha the wad is lacking, then I have kilos to lose.

If we open ourselves to the voice of the Lord, as He has given in his Word, then there are responses to dilemas and the pain of prolonged depression, to lean on – if we will. The Psalms of Ascent have come to my attention like soldiers climbing the stairs, they are a lifeline worth exploring. They are intoned in a low voice, increasing as the Psalm progresses until the final verses are intoned in high voice: Because they have ascended or because they have arrived; depending on which meaning one chooses to utilise.

I have often been in the depths of depression, yet I did not cry unto God for His mercy, because, as I said I did not believe I would receive it. The Psalmist – probably, David had no hesitation because he had been there often. I am in this place often, it is the nature of the beast.

I resonate with the Pit of Joseph, the well of Jeremiah, innocents cast away for fear of murder for fear of Truth. For David as he pondered his sins and cried for mercy. For if God kept a record of wrongs they might hang like a millstone about our necks and we could not stand.

David awaits the Word of God, as I should have done, yet I scorned it and turned my back for what could He know of this, my pit. of any pit he knows for he has visited them all, a man who was tried in everyway as us yet did not dispair.

Jesus cried unto his father that he might not drink the sour wine of the cross, yet not his will but his Father’s. Did God will me into my pit of darkness, does he want me there. He does not want me here, the necessity of being in this place is that I learn to pray out of it, to wait patiently, to serve Him with reverence for my prayers will fly to his abode – if I send them.

Moon Rise

D. H. Lawrence, 1885 – 1930

And who has seen the moon, who has not seen
Her rise from out the chamber of the deep,
Flushed and grand and naked, as from the chamber
Of finished bridegroom, seen her rise and throw
Confession of delight upon the wave,
Littering the waves with her own superscription
Of bliss, till all her lambent beauty shakes towards us
Spread out and known at last, and we are sure
That beauty is a thing beyond the grave,
That perfect, bright experience never falls
To nothingness, and time will dim the moon
Sooner than our full consummation here
In this odd life will tarnish or pass away. This poem is in the public domain.

3 thoughts on “count my blessings

  1. ((hugs))

    When the pit beckons … when the gloom murks … when the tunnel stretches too far to see … then I change. I go minimalist … reduce the doings … pare back the obligations … unpack the daily suitcase now too heavy to carry. And I go maximalist … I reward myself with words of praise … I tell myself of a lighter “suitcase” pruned … tell myself thank you for doing less … thank myself for getting something small finished. Yet even that I allow a day to three … rarely is my daily suitcase packed with anything that MUST BE DONE right now. I am gentle with me. I am uplifting of me. I am climbing out of the pit one small step at a time. I am shortening that tunnel so that the end is mine not its. I nurture me and find the kindness to nurture you coming back a little each day.

    When the pit beckons … I now know the edges crumble invisibly. I now know to keep the edges from crumbling.


    Liked by 1 person

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