These days keep chugging, Lord. They muster their way up through the night and break through the dawn whether we’re ready or not. I squeeze my eyes shut to hold fast to what lingers in the pockets of my dreams. Soon, though, the needs of the day press in and beckon me forth. Needs are raised, and I seek to tend them. Bruises are offered and I seek to heal them. Laughter bursts and washes over me like a broken summer wave. Music perks, sobs settle, hearts warm and surround the shards of difficulty that get strewn through the lives that intersect. I chug. We chug. Together we drift into the glow of embers that close this stretch of time and call it a blessed day.
I felt you chugging along in the tick of the clock, the scent of the coffee, and the hand squeezing tight. I noticed you chugging with the drift of the cloud, and the shift of the weight of the weary. I saw you chugging in the skip of bare feet, and the drape of the silk wrapped around a slender neck. Heart you chugging in the grunt of effort and thunderous applause. You’ve put in a full day, too. Thanks for that. Thanks for chugging with me. Thanks.
Anne Fraley is rector of St. Peter’s Episcopal Church in South Windsor, CT. A life-long dog-lover, she escapes the demands of parish life volunteering for animal rescue groups. She occasionally succeeds at reviving her blog at reverent irreverence.
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