Waiting for Reality

Throwing back the covers and laying in my sweat, wondering if I should run to the bathroom to vomit or if I lay very very still, I may be able to prevent that action. I lay waiting, waiting for my reality to change. 

One day we will dig that pool in our backyard and one day he’ll have that motorcycle. We are quite sure we are raising a little Renaissance girl of a genius and she makes us both smile. I look into his eyes and I can’t take mine away and I wait. I wait for my reality to change. 

The good moments and the bad, only one thing is certain:  change. If I don’t like it now, just wait a bit. I’m learning (LEARNING) to be patient and I wait. I wait. I wait and I know. I know this is not my reality. 

My reality is never hurting again. My reality is no more pain and no more tears. My reality is forever joy and eternal health and wealth and wildest dreams coming true every day. My reality is Jesus. Seeing his face and praising his name and never ever having the possibility of change. 

Now I wait. I wait for my reality that will be real because it will be real forever. I wait to see, I wait to praise, I wait to be with my real Jesus. 

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