So here I sit all primped and powdered, curled and twirled ready to make the trek to meet MOMD. It is what it is, what happens, happens.
I’ve got good friends praying for me and if it’s meant to be, God will make it happen despite myself.
So I leave you with a bit of Psalm 30 (The Message translation):
You did it: you changed wild lament into whirling dance;
You ripped off my black morning band and decked me with wildflowers.
I’m about to burst with song;
I can’t keep quiet about you.
God, my God,
I can’t thank you enough.
I’ll be back tomorrow morn!