Thank you, God, that you set a moon so high it fills the space from tree to tree, dusty from the almond harvest and blurry in my backyard -
Thank you, God, for the roaring ocean, for jasmine at bloom in the perfect evening warm air in this Big, Big Valley -
Thank you, God, for my iPhone, with the app that plays ocean waves at night as I wrestle with my thoughts of ministry and marriages and how to get everyone where they need to be tomorrow. Also, for the gluten free waffles I didn’t forget to buy -
Thank you, God, for nephews who stop by on their way from Santa Cruz to Fresno, to give me a hug and play Legos with Joe for an hour in an empty house -
Thank you, God, for holes. Holes in an 8-year-old’s tender and intricate and badly damaged brain. Holes that mean there are caverns of blank and empty parts in his head, in my heart, holes that only you can fill -
Thank you, God, for a shower with water that doesn’t start out hot but gets there gradually and causes me to ponder how slow and imperfect things are here where we live, how impatient I am for the new heaven and the new earth, and your perfect timing that will wipe away the old and the ugly and the dead -
