I remember trying not to cough during church.
Hold it in.
Don’t disrupt the sermon.
It’ll go over their heads and past their hearts.
But do I even understand?
Should an eight year old feel this much guilt?
The tickle in my throat spreads.
Muffle it at least.
Physical eye and ears on alert.
Spiritual eye and ears are closed.
I swear (if I may) there was a bowl of cough drops.
Oh, but don’t get up.
Stay seated and stay still.
Dryer than Elijah’s river bed during the drought.
Burning like the fiery furnace.
But the distraction doesn’t burn off.
The tickle grows
and grows and grows.
My eyes soak in tears.
I can’t hold this in.
But I can’t be that kid.
Make a run for it!
Living Water in me.
That’s all I really needed.