Dear Jesus, good morning - thank you for the weekend.
Wrote a bit of a rant that I deleted and am now starting over. In the end, I'm not telling you anything you don't already know.
Feeling a bit out of sorts this morning, and am unsure of the cause. Had some unsettling dreams, and the after-effects often linger into the next morning. Joined a different AA meeting this morning - not my normal home group - because of some personality issues in my regular group that have made attending there now more a chore than a place of recovery.
Read my books, journaled, wrote out a long list of prayers ... maybe it's just the ever-growing size of that list, and the tremendous need everywhere that for some reason compels me to make myself more aware of them, and commit myself to pray more for them.
I have more than I really deserve. Mother Teresa said, "I am a little pencil in the hand of a writing God who is sending a love letter to the world." Sometimes the heart doesn't feel like writing love letters. But sometimes a disturbed heart stays disturbed simply because of the love it cannot quite convey.
I am short-sighted. I can think well into the future but find it almost impossible to see the day in front of me. I have three weeks until I start my new job, and so many writing and researching ideas going through my head, with the ever-present resignation that I will leave all of them undone when I die. My grave marker will likely read, "This tombstone intentionally left blank."
But there's a day ahead to climb from this temporary despair. Let me pick up the hammer and chisel and begin carving a new epitaph today. Even if we only chip away a small amount of granite.
Amen.
