Jonah and the Barrel

I'm scraping the bottom of the barrel here. Scraping so hard I think I might punch through to the other side. And all I'm coming up with is trust. Just trust.

Last Sunday's sermon was on Jonah. I keep thinking that I would like to be swallowed by a big fish. I would like to sit in a dark, warm place, with the steady sound of a heart beating, knowing that I was completely held by God. Knowing there was nothing else I could try, or do, or think that would get me out of God's warm, heart-beating prison. God's womb.

I am aware that my obsession with sleeplessness doesn’t only come from my inability to physically sleep, but from my inability to let my soul rest. There is nothing I want more than to just stop trying so damn hard. I'm exhausted from my attempts at fixing the mess of my heart and head and soul.
The notes in my Bible underneath Psalm 34:6 ("The poor man called, and the LORD heard him; he saved him out of all his troubles.") say: "Here, as often in the Psalms, 'poor' characterizes not necessarily one who has no possessions, but one who is (and recognizes that he is) without resources to effect his own deliverance (or secure his own life, safety or well-being) - and so is dependent on God."
-Without resources to effect her own deliverance.

So, there's that empty barrel.
Scrape, scrape, scrape.
"Looks like we've got a little, um, well. Just a little bit of trust. I guess we could thicken it up with a little...well nope. That's all we've got here.
"Sorry.
"Damn, it smells like fish in here."