God,

I’m scunnered!

 

I feel a failure,

unsure if I have what it takes

to seek the changes 

this weary season offers.

 

And when I see the 

enormity of it all.

O God, my inadequacy hangs heavy,

and the well feels dry.

and I have nothing with which to draw refreshment.

 

I’m tired worrying about everything,

feeling the pressure of what that brings,

trying to engage with the future,

unable to capture its illusive shape,

and do something about it

while negotiating the present

with its shifting boundaries of safety and danger.

 

I want to retreat,

turn my back

on all that is draining my energy,

reserves that are not replenished,

and find my safe place,

in the familiar,

and be left there

to grow without the choking weeds.

 

O God, may your Spirit

make a bonfire of such weariness,

and from the ashes,

your healing balm restore my soul

that I might grow again.