worries.

I've been eaten alive with worry for the past few weeks. There are many things in my life calling for my attention, for my love, for my understanding, and for my time. I worry about people I care about, people I should care about, things I need to do, things I shouldn't do, the coming year, plans I'm making, and the uncertainty of it all. I feel so unrested today because I've tried to take on all these worries by myself. Getting rid of them is so difficult, and painful, like pulling too many slivers out of my palm. I can't always see them. I know they are there and they bother me, but I can't do it on my own.

I found a poem that gave me a little comfort:

Let Evening Come
by Jane Kenyon

Let the light of late afternoon
shine through chinks in the barn, moving
up the bales as the sun moves down.

Let the cricket take up chafing
as a woman takes up her needles
and her yarn. Let evening come.

Let dew collect on the hoe abandoned
in long grass. Let the stars appear
and the moon disclose her silver horn.

Let the fox go back to its sandy den.
Let the wind die down. Let the shed
go black inside. Let evening come.

To the bottle in the ditch, to the scoop
in the oats, to air in the lung
let evening come.

Let it come, as it will, and don't
be afraid. God does not leave us
comfortless, so let evening come.