The daffodils are blooming so I picked us some.
One hundred and seventeen. 117. The number of days I've been out of work. The number of days I've been praying for a job. The past week I've been an absolute mess, alternating between hopeful and devastated, laughing and sobbing. And when I was awakened in the middle of the night to a phone call that my neighbor's house was burning to the ground, endangering lives and pets and raining down embers on Freeman House, I lost it.
Mercy drops 'round me are falling, but for the showers I plead.