The business of being unknown is harder than I thought it would be. It makes me realize I want to be known for the love I can show more than for the love I am content to receive. Being unknown makes me face the real issue without distraction. Identity is a blessing that can be found in anonymity, I’m learning. In spite of that, however, I find myself praying for distraction, praying for notice.
Letting God be enough is good for my soul, but hard to practice. Now is the time to learn worship while scrubbing walls and cleaning windows. Now is the time to just be silent and listen. If need be, to ask a question so as to go on listening. But, if questions only serve the purpose to keep me talking, listening to the sound of my own voice, then may God be merciful enough to calm the interior storm and show me the shifting nature of my questions.
This is my prayer these slow days. To learn to love God’s humidity because it reminds me to measure each step in accordance with the climatic furnace, to take the journey slowly, making note of the cracks in the concrete. Beauty may be found there, too. God dwells everywhere. The God of the old sidewalk knew my name before there were sidewalks or weather. He is happy to regard me as a tennis court with no net.
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