Haze

There is this haze I feel when I go home.
It isn't visible with the naked eye.
It doesn't feel like smog or high altitudes.
Just a haze.

I wonder if it is discernment.

Maybe, it's my spirit reacting to spiritual warfare.

But it is there and I feel it.
I feel like it could suffocate me...if I allow it to.
Which I don't.

This haze further reminds me of how far -how very far- I long to be from it.
And I wonder if those living within it notice it too.
Like how the smell of manure becomes distant to a farmer.

But I am passing through, so I smell it.
It surrounds me and I can not escape it.

And it hurts.
Like a physical pain in my chest.
My heart beating quickly.
Bile in my throat.

It feels dark to me.
And I, so far removed now, see it.
It encompasses me.

So I cry and I drive. Away.
And my heart hurts for that town.
And the residents.
Family and friends.
Memories.

And I pray that God not turn His back on it.
And I know that He has not.

But I have.

Why I escaped, I do not know.

The city I was raised in is high in mental health, alcoholism, depression, and poverty. This is truth.
However, another truth, a much lovelier truth, is that it is picking itself up. Yes, the city.
My sister lives there with her three Littles and they are afforded such great opportunities!
It is refreshing. Not because the city is just so great, but because there is a lot of heart there. People and businesses desiring to make life better for their neighbors.

When I write about this, I do so to take ideas and wonders which are in my mind and get them out.
It frees me to write.