It was one week into my admission into the hospital with Covid... I hadn't shaved in over a week and decided my Christmas gift to myself was to look presentable. I was kneeling at the sink with oxygen tube, trying to shave in their lukewarm water when a nurse came in. She started to fuss at me to get into bed, but took pity on me and helped me shave my head. I was utterly out of strength to lift my arms at that point, and don't think I could have finished on my own... I will

This morning, I was having Quiet Time, and God brought to mind the Amy Grant Christmas song Breath of Heaven. This song never really moved me in the past, but I Googled the lyrics anyway. I mean, God brought it up, right? I got to the chorus, and blinked hard. Breath of Heaven, Hold me together... I was not holding it together. I am still not. But I am improving physically. I want to be home with my wife. But I have to get better first. And that is not going to happen if

I lay down this afternoon to try to nap. And just like usually happens here in this hospital bed, it gets hard to breathe. It feels like my nasal passages just got restricted. It requires muscle to breathe only through my nose. Just like in the scary asthma attacks of my past. My heart rate jumps. My anxiety kicks in. I will myself to take slow steady breaths through my nose, when my mind is screaming to open my mouth and breathe! Breathe fast! Hurry! But God...