And when I’m feeling particularly cynical, the scene oft replays wherein Westley, still thrashing about in his own, dares mock the grief of his beloved.
Life is pain, Highness, he chides.
My kids are back home. We start the home stretch toward school again. The days spill over from life, and that’s a good thing, except when it’s a hard thing, and maybe that’s even a good thing too.
I’m staring down a long week ahead crammed into a short week’s time and likely some heartburn on the other end that I’d rather not think about at all.
All that to say, the stuff of the coming week should give ample opportunity to do what Paul Miller would call “leaning in the direction of God,” adopting that somewhat tilted posture of continuous praying because I don’t know what else to do.*
Don’t fret or worry. Instead of worrying, pray. Let petitions and praises shape your worries into prayers, letting God know your concerns. Before you know it, a sense of God’s wholeness, everything coming together for good, will come and settle you down. It’s wonderful what happens when Christ displaces worry at the center of your life.
(Philippians 4:6-7, The Message)
Thanks for hanging here with me, even when I seem not terribly present. You encourage me more than I probably ever let on.
Photo by Horton Group *A Praying Life, by Paul A. Miller
Around the table, fingers flipped through thin white pages and skimmed headings and margin notes for a clue as to the whereabouts of a story that may, or may not exist.
My class of good sports let doubt fall to my favor, not quite ready to confirm or deny whether I’d made the story up. I couldn’t even confirm or deny, truth be told.
We had to move on before we answered it. So the assignment for our next meeting? Browse the Gospels to see if, in fact, Jesus did have this conversation I had imagined.