My Daily Breadline

My children are all sick.
The house is a mess.
My marriage is comfortably empty.
My boss seemed upset.
I don’t speak the same language
As the ones who wear Your name.
I’ve been alone so long,
It’s all I know, how I must remain:

We sing songs of You
As the Rescuer, the Restorer,
And I am grateful You do.
I’m ashamed to ask, is there more, or…

Or do I take small bites of today’s
Daily Bread
And remember the real Bread of Life
Is best enjoyed after I’m dead?

It’s all grace either way
And I am grateful for today,

But I’ve fallen on hard times.