It's the Thanksgiving holiday weekend. I'm alone even though I reside in a shared bedroom with a 78-year old woman. I'm alone in this skilled nursing facility housing 100+ souls. I'm reconciled to my aloneness. My heart doesn't hurt. At least not today. I hold hope in my heart that my husband will visit. He begged off taking me to church this morning citing snow yet the roads are clear. But I hold hope nonetheless.
I have God. I know I do. He never leaves me and carries me every day, every minute. Especially when I'm weak and in despair.
Occasionally, we are seized with a rebellion so sickening that we simply won't pray. When these things happen we must not think too ill of ourselves. We should simply resume prayer as soon as we can, doing what we know to be good for us. -- TWELVE STEPS AND TWELVE TRADITIONS, page 105 Gee, I could have saved myself years of self-reproach by taking it easy on myself. "Try" as I might, I never could make prayer, in the traditional sense, a daily occurrence for stretches longer than a month. I had good intentions but inevitably, I'd be running late and forget. Or worse, I'd get a big, fat bout of attitude about not getting my wishes (the permanent position at the Gates Foundation, being fired from my last job when my health deteriorated, the cancellation of my Panama Canal cruise, and the various abandonments I experienced following my ALS diagnosis) and off I'd go, cursing my Higher Power, turning my back, isolating, and wishing I were dead (actually, I wa...
Comments
Post a Comment