On the Way Home


I’m praying as I’m driving. I often do. Alone in my car, I whisper petitions and, sometimes, speak aloud the longings of my heart for those I love. More often, my prayers are deep and silent, offered in the fugue-likeness of autopilot driving.

Today, I’m praying for someone I love who is struggling, reminding the Creator of things done in the past in this person’s life, as if my reminders are necessary. Finally, in my mind’s eye, I lift my raised cupped hands toward the heavens, imagine this dear one sitting in them, and release into the care of the Divine.

Over the course of my life, I’ve intentionally released countless times this way—again and again, because of my propensity to pick things up and worry them until I realize the wisest choice is prayerful release.

I’m also thinking about words I read earlier in a news story. Unvaccinated British Columbians are legally not allowed to attend social gatherings outside their household. They send a chill through me. Today, it’s the unvaccinated, who’s next? I can’t believe we’ve come to (or returned to) this place.

There must be a balance between prayer and action in this, but it’s unclear at this moment. There must be lines we dare not cross, but we keep crossing them.

I turn off the highway, north toward home, and my eyes are drawn to the west where the sun is just setting. The heavens are glorious. There’s something magical about the shades of pink and red and the cloud formations. I turn right, detouring, to get a better view.

I circle the block twice, stopping at the side of the road the second time around to take in the majesty. Creation gets me every time. It’s often how the Divine speaks to me. I have no words to adequately describe what I see and what I know, and that’s okay. Some things are meant to be indescribable.

Later, my social media is flooded with images of the sky captured in those moments all over the city. These are dark days and we are drawn toward the wonder of light. The burdens remain and sometimes anxiety overwhelms, but we worship. Whether we call it that or not, we worship.

Finally, I turn toward home and people I love, where my better work awaits. Sometimes loving well is the hardest thing, but it’s the thing for which I was created. Sometimes it’s soft and easy, other times it pinches. I’m still figuring out how to do it marginally well.

Sometimes current world events seem distant, other times they demand more than prayer. I’m still figuring that out, too. But (fill in the blank) are legally not allowed to attend social gatherings outside their household seems to be, at the very least, one worth sitting up and taking notice of.

signature-fonts

I’m a writer, reader, photographer, and gardener. I thought by now I’d have things figured out, but I keep coming up with more questions. I think that’s okay. I’m here most mornings pondering ordinary things.
1 comment
  1. You put into words how I’m feeling, too! Thanks for sharing.

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.