Dear God:
So far, on most days, successes and failures seem
To balance
Out.
Most days.
There is that humanness/humor/humility that understands and smiles and/or winces and/or shakes its bowed head. I walk this stable tightrope pausing only to take a deep breath or sigh (or determine if I just took a deep breath or sighed).
Most days.
There have been other times, too.
Heights. Heights so high...
(Heights so high I've done anything I could not to fall.)
Lows. Low so low...
(Lows so low I've waited for that first shovel full of dirt to fall on my face.)
Today, however, I'm sitting by this lake for just a while.
(I wait for something to happen. Something always does.
Always.
I welcome the day and it welcomes me, too.
That.
Is.
Enough.)
Amen.
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