Monday's spiritual clearing house

On cold, wet mornings like this one, I find myself in traffic- praying under my breath, tapping the steering wheel, sometimes whistling between gritted teeth- sitting at stop lights. The endless dirty semi's roar past, the blonde women in those swingy -looking haircuts and driving huge SUV's, the school buses. Everything looks dark and slightly condensed from the cold.

I pray for lots of things, pray in spite of some stuff, pray twice as often over a few things. With each nail hammered, every joke told, every word typed we take another step along the journey. Though I worry about things in my own life [ kids and money, for the most part] It's somehow going to be okay, and the realisation of this sifts down into my heart even as I am watching traffic, either complaining to God or thanking God in what seems to me a slightly bi-polar manner. I am pleased, however, that God is familiar with the way I think and probably doesn't bat an eyelash, no matter what astounding thing I might communicate to Him. He's pretty much heard it all by now, and is politely waiting for me to finish so He can start arranging things the way He planned to in the first place. Notice I didn't say 'fix'. Maybe navigate on my behalf is a better choice. After all, this is a fallen dimension and stuff happens. Through our own choice as a species over thousands of years, we have made God into but an interested bystander -one who longs to help, but has been shut out like a dowdy brush salesman on the doorstep. His only recourse is to wait on the prayers of individuals, one by one, for random chances to help us through the chain of events on this planet. Yet He never seems to give up on wanting to offer assistance. This probably explains why He's God and I'm not.