Father, we come . . .
wanting to feel less frazzled.
wanting the end of our ropes to feel less fried at the end.
we come hungry for purpose.
we come famished from what our distractions have done to us.
it's not obvious to us how the simple parts of our days matter.
it's not obvious how the clutter has clouded our judgment.
there is work to be done and the piles seem to grow exponentially through the night.
there is work to be done and we're all sweaty-hands with fear that we'll never get it all done.
the start of a new week births familiar panic and the pressure in our veins is high.
the start of a new week feels a bit like a pot about to have its lid fling off.
we make our lists and steel ourselves for what the calendar already reveals about this week.
we make our lists and call ourselves prepared by creating expectations and assumptions.
all the while we're so focused on the train whistle that blows loud at the start of the week.
all the while we're so focused on protecting ourselves from its force.
it isn't You who we're most concerned about.
it isn't willingness for whatever that is our first thought.
gratitude for grace isn't what monday's bring to our mind.
gratitude for each moment as it comes isn't our mantra.
might we be accepting of the one step-at-a-time approach.
might we be accepting of how you prepare us for each moment, one at a time.
we judge ourselves based on what we might accomplish in the week.
we judge our week based on how we feel at the end of each day.
might we cease to judge our worth based on how we've responded to the week's whirl.might we cease to judge You based on what all happens.
remind us there is hidden purpose beyond what we see.
remind us there are bread-crumbs in each moment that bring us and others to You.
may it be peace that we abide in, not adrenaline or caffeine.
may it be an abiding in You that we seek, no matter what.