My father was a writer. He wrote all of his life, inflicting upon many of us his novels, plays, articles, essays, and self-help books. Some were marvelous; some merely well-intentioned. But of all the things he wrote, his journal is his legacy: by turns wise and bewildering, it neared 1,100 type-written pages when he died in 2010. Although perused many times, this is the first time it will be read - cover to cover, page after page.
Monday, April 30, 2012
Pleading With God
God, I don't understand. I'm not sure what you want. At times I think I know. Other times I am afraid I do, but that I don't know how to do it. Show me, Lord. Tell me what you want and show me the way. I'm not sure. I don't know how to be me, or you. You have the answer and the question both. If you are telling me now, then I can't understand. Maybe I don't want to. Maybe you want too much. Maybe you want what I cannot give. Show me, Lord. Help me trust you. Tell me it is worthwhile and that you will be with me. Then let it be enough.
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