Primitive religion is not believed, it is danced!

Arthur Darby Nock

Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
And only he who sees takes off his shoes;
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.

Elizabeth Browning

Tuesday, July 31, 2018


“We all grow tired eventually; it happens to everyone. Even the sun, at the close of the year, is no longer a morning person.”
                                                                           Joyce Rachelle

I’m tired

Oh, I keep moving
I keep putting one foot in front of the other

I keep getting up
Keep taking walks with Finn the dog
Keep taking pictures

I keep teaching people to manage pain
And keep writing sermons

But I am tired
Exhaustion has woven its way through the fabric of my being
Until I am not longer full awake
Perhaps no longer fully alive

At times I feel more like a robot than a person
With muscles that are simply weak, as if they do not have enough oxygen
A head that will not clear
A mouth that barely works
A mind that would rather shut down

My greatest fear is that people will know that I am
Running on empty

It is not, when I spend time with them, that I do not care
I do
It is not that I don’t want to be there
I do

But my head and heart are empty
And there is a dull roar echoing thought my skull
That 24 hours without sleep kind of buzz

And I know that they are getting such small percentage of who I am

No wonder I do not feel effective these day
No wonder I am not effective these days
Zombies are limited creatures
Only partly alive

There are no easy answers
A little more sleep
A little more white space
 A little more time, reading, reflecting

But in the meantime I keep on
A sermon to write
A bulletin to do
A class to prepare for
A person to listen to
A person to pray for

God, I am at the end of my capacity
Time to lean

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