Hear my prayer, O God;
do not hide yourself from my petition.
Listen to me and answer me;
I have no peace, because of my cares.
In the evening and in the morning I offer up the day of contradictions. A celebratory lunch. Stress about upcoming events. Flowers from my husband, just because. Worrisome news from a friend. The swelling red buds on the tree outside my window juxtaposed with the intricate patterns of crystalized ice that has to be scraped off my windshield.
I am acutely aware now of the tension underlying this border territory along the edge of the wilderness. And weaving through it the faint strains of a sacred song of sorrow and heartache that is beginning to take shape. I know that holy ground can bring uncertainty, yet even still I grasp for God, wanting steadiness and reassurance.
The ambiguity of the edge of things. Will I hide? Will I stand still? Will I risk?
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