I have a few questions.
How . . . ?
Is it . . . ?
What . . . ?
I scratch them on a page in my journal. One after another; they keep coming.
Through writing comes understanding. Not answers but illumination.
I scribble prayer.
(I wonder: is it okay to use such a common word alongside a holy one?
Then I remember: that’s the way this whole thing plays out.)
Grace for today.