It's my ninth day of being confined to an isolation room in the hospital...
It's still early as I write these words in my pad. Breakfast is yet to arrive. I was up early - perhaps two A.M. I couldn't fall back to sleep, so I decided to go into a prolonged time of prayer. I talked with the Lord about many things, including some personal issues and concerns. There are times when I'd share various matters with Jesus that I would not share with even my dearest friends. I know He hears me. I know He cares. It's good, and even therapeutic, to open my heart to God and to give Him all my troubles.
Now I have the rest of my day to spend alone. I like the solitude. It's a pleasant reprieve from the constant noise and commotion of the cell block. Yet, at the same time, I find myself saying to God, "Okay, Lord. Enough already. Please get me out of here."
I think that being confined like this gives me the feeling that life is going on without me, that my life is on hold. I miss the chapel crew. I have a pile of letters with me that I want to answer since the mail is being delivered to my room. I also want to transfer my hospital writings over to typing paper. For now, I've only been able to scribble with a pen. I hope to leave as soon as I can.
D.B.
Now I have the rest of my day to spend alone. I like the solitude. It's a pleasant reprieve from the constant noise and commotion of the cell block. Yet, at the same time, I find myself saying to God, "Okay, Lord. Enough already. Please get me out of here."
I think that being confined like this gives me the feeling that life is going on without me, that my life is on hold. I miss the chapel crew. I have a pile of letters with me that I want to answer since the mail is being delivered to my room. I also want to transfer my hospital writings over to typing paper. For now, I've only been able to scribble with a pen. I hope to leave as soon as I can.
D.B.
