And so with Lauralea off on a quilting adventure, as if quilting can be an adventure, then txting me later informing me of her new plans to go with a few others for brunch, and with Micah sound asleep, I had the morning to myself. A rare treat.
So I ate some homemade bread toast and some corn pops, looked out into the dazzling sunshine and felt something more than the Corn Pops stirring inside me. I got my ipod and shuffled my worship tunes, threw on my coat and headed off on a prayer hike through the harvested hills around my home. And I walked and prayed.
It was so good, like finding home again.
The things that seemed they needed praying for mostly were for churches out there that seem more intent on accusing one another than they are about getting on with the business of following their leader. I am constantly amazed by a churches ability to look inward and take pot shots at itself, destroying God's work in the process. But there are a couple of church stories I am aware of and they keep me up at night, so I pray.
Other things were prayed for too, but it was good to walk and pray and actually to be able to pray out loud with no one around to mock me out about how I pray or what I pray for.
After a good chunk of time my bum leg started to catch up with me so I sat a bit and just enjoyed the space and time and his presence.
Lauralea should be home soon, and then I think it's time for some Saturday chores.
Better go wake the sleeping dead.