It feels a little like I stumbled. I’m in the midst of one of those slow motion things where almost comical gyrations have taken over my body as I struggle to regain my balance. Only it’s not so comical. Know what I mean?
In the morning I return to the peace of familiar words and raise my hands and heart in prayer for unfamiliar things and for those that whisper, with a twisted sneer, “remember me?”. And when I have done what I can do to start the day full, I turn my thoughts to other things.
Like the swirling movement of the clouds yesterday afternoon that captivated my attention as Gerry and I took a break in the middle of the day to soak in the hot tub.
Like the man I watched when I was waiting in the car wander in the WalMart parking lot who had obviously forgotten where he parked his car. I felt a kinship to his searching.
Like the other man I watched walking toward the store entrance whose gait seemed familiar and it wasn’t until I saw his now unmasked face returning that I realized I used to work with him a lifetime ago.
Like the sound of the wind and rain drops tapping on the window and the comfort of wrapping up in a cozy, somewhat ratty, sweater.
Like the wilderness, and the richness I find in the midst.
And another day begins with things to do and the opportunity to put one foot in front of the other and try to do something good in the space I’ve been given. That’s all. That’s enough. Here we go.
Generally, I find it more useful, therefore, to pray Where? rather than Why? prayers. Where were you, Lord, in our medical appointment today? Where are you now in our weariness and disappointment?
Pete Grieg, How to Pray: A Simple Guide for Normal People