Good morning, Jesus. Thank you for our time together today. Just a few random thoughts - oddly enough, about time - this morning.
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I think we humans wonder (complain) a great deal about your sense of timing. Like Tom Petty sang, "The waiting is the hardest part." I don't know if it's the hardest thing for us humans in general, or if it becomes more of a burden as one tries to live more fully by faith. My prayers over the last few weeks have certainly revealed my impatience in a lot of areas, and even now we're up against the gun a bit as The Elizabeth Foundation works to find homes / programs / rehabs for a number of people for whom we don't have the funds to support. But yesterday we got some good news that a mother and two small children with whom we've been working may have a place next week; I am very grateful. And it looks like I may be back to work in early October; thank you, too for that. Things here on earth take time, and that time allows me to see and store the memories and reminders that you do come through, time and again, and that I'd be wise to remember this in the future when the hard part of waiting again arrives. As it always will. In fact, it's re-appearance is almost as dependable as your commitment to answer the call.
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It's been very satisfying and rewarding to be a little more involved of late with TEF. I was struck this morning by how my 'down time' coincided with some ever-growing needs of encouragement for some, and legwork and phone work necessary to keep people moving in the positive directions on which they've started. Tracy absolutely has your heart inside her - I'm not sure I've ever met anyone who reflects your care, compassion, concern and commitment more than she does. Anything I do is of absolutely no consequence compared to the tireless efforts she gives every day - even as she works a full-time job. I pray that as I again begin working I can continue in some (very) small way to help Tracy and our folks do what we do. You promised you'd never leave us nor forsake us. I didn't realize until this morning that hearts Tracy's are simply evidence that, well, you never left at all.
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I continue to wrestle a bit with trust. I didn't like yesterday's prayer; I'm hoping that you heard something I was trying to say, something that was transparent enough to merit your reading. Here's the thing - and you already know this: I wrote it the night before I posted it. I seldom try to get 'ahead of the curve' and write something in advance in case the well seems dry the next time words from me are expected. (And, to be frank, no one sets their alarm clocks in the morning, hoping to arise in time to be the first to read my Daily Drivel...) But I like to be constant, consistent, and creative, and I allow (force) myself to do this. But it never fails: if I try to write something ahead of time, I never seem as satisfied with the final words as I do when I write when the absence of ideas and inspiration leaves me on the edge of a cliff, wondering if finally the well has run dry. It's certainly a mindfulness thing, a staying-in-the-moment kind of thing. And as I still kick around thoughts of being a writer someday, the belief that I could sit and write a book of inspirational essays seems folly because those essays would not stream to me on-demand, but would have to arise in the moment. Unfortunately (for me, perhaps fortunately for the public at large...) I've never been under a contract with a record company expecting one or two album releases a year. But that has allowed my music to come from the feelings of the moment, and not only seem to convey the message more honestly, but even be more meaningful to me as I sit in the living room years later playing a particular song. Trust the moment, I guess. Which, in the end, is simply another time of waiting.
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Bless my family and friends today. Work within your time in all our needs today.
Amen.
