Miserably Happy

To be happy I have to make myself miserable

I act like I want rest, but when it comes a good day to do so, my mind fights it like an addict crawling back to his fix.

To simply slow, quiet appreciate and enjoy is like hot pokers under my nails.

I don't know how to do it.

I may do it successfully for a time, but the busy, noisy anxious fretful reality always lurks in the background.

Purposeful quiet time helps, but is no magical formula.

Not until my heart totally changes will I be freed from all my self-made oppression.

Please give me a new heart, free me from myself. 

Teach me to pray. 

Help me to hear your voice.

Lead me into the lush green valley of thankfulness.