ts 7:46 on an August morning and instead of blue skies a blackness covers everything from above, with whipping winds and tumultuous rains I take this morning as a testament to the blackness of my soul. All the grim and gunk left from a loveless year of heartaches, attacks and obstacles never overcome. But you know the thing about a storm? It must pass and it cannot stay forever. So as the wind whips and the hail hits the windows, here I am. Standing in the gap for myself, speaking better things into existence. I will not live another year in regret and I will not enter it without being freed from the burdens of the past. So happy birthday to me. Wet weather and all.