high tide

Ken, Doll you got my life in order.

Well. Sort of.

I think all the running around and building cool muscles, got me feeling pretty right with the world. I am really getting my act together. Writing things down. Mailing overdue letters. Framing prints that have been laying secretly between pieces of cardboard and waiting to be loved on the wall.

Show up to band practice. Check.
Invite coworker to church. Check.
Donate to charity. Check.
Write down Bible verses. Check.
Make your bed and open the shutters so your plants get light while you are at work. Check and check.

It is not that hard to be content, I guess.
And this may be a swelling of the tide. This might be the high tide, and a later season will leave the shore exposed and my bones exposed on a hot, dry beach next to a sandstone cliff.
So I hope I have strong faith then, and that I use this time to reinforce my foundation.

And may it be at least eight years before I ever take a child through the doors of Ikea, Lord.
And may I never go to sleep next to a man who wants to talk about football statistics or politics, Lord.
And if it is your will, Lord, let my legs keep running and climbing and jumping as long as I live, Lord.
I love You.
To God be the glory alone, for a personal trainer who likes to get paid in coffee. For a clean car, and for dates with best friends, and for a place of worship where we are still not condemned by our government, yet.
Amen.