pink eye for the third time.
At first, I laughed. I hurt and I winced, eyes watering with pain—but mostly, I laughed. I laughed because this is the third time in one month that I’ve woken up with pink eye. It seems every time I come back from a group visit—every time I come back like the psalmist seeing the restoration promised, wrapped up in abundant harvest bundles—I come back and wake up with pink eye. It just seems to be the case that the enemy is unhappy with what I’m doing, with the joy I feel in doing it, with the work that the Spirit is accomplishing in slow days and small obedience to teach and to lead and to love on these ladies. A few hours later though, I’m on the floor, on my eyes, crying. The eye doctor isn’t in today (or for three weeks). I’ve scheduled to see a general physician, but I’ve still sunk low into sadness because I’m tired and I’m hurting and I’m really, really tired of red, watery, painful eyes. I turn on songs of praise on my phone. I turn on songs that lift my head, and t...