On Dr Foster went to Gloucester

Dr Foster went to Gloucester in a shower of rain.
He stepped in a puddle right up to his middle and never went there again.

I had a Dr Foster moment today.
We were walking with friends.
The men were in front....
We were bringing up the rear.

We were talking...
Except when we went up hill then we gasped the odd word
 And waited until the ground levelled off.

"Watch this bit it's muddy," the men called back
as they climbed and balanced on a steep bank to pass the muddy bit.
But we women, seeing clearly, decided to go on the other side.
It was less steep.
And wider.

What I hadn't noticed was the branches sticking out.
We had to shuffle sideways.
Heads down.
Shoulders hunched.

I spied a place to stand before jumping to the other side.
Only it wasn't a place to stand.
It was like quicksand, sucking me down to its depths.
Well, down to my knee anyway.

I screamed.
They laughed.
I retrieved my leg, with my boot still intact surprisingly, then carried on my way.
Destination coffee shop.

The analogy wasn't lost on me.
My phased return to work hadn't gone very well last week.
I had woken this morning with anxiety and fear like a weight on my chest.
It was dragging me down.
The enemy was laughing at me.
"I told you, you wouldn't work again and I was right."

No.
You're wrong.
I am the child of a King.
He has given me a safe place to stand.
I trust Him.
One step at a time.


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