I am so very tired.
This is the tired that hangs from your bones and rests smokily in your skull, euphoric but heavy. It begs sleep but numbs the need with peace.
A friend came to town this weekend. There was little sleep. There were conversations that will change our lives. For some maybe even geographically, but I can’t say much more than that for now.
From getting up for work early Friday morning till I went to bed Sunday night I slept three hours. Somehow I’m still operational, though I’ve advised my coworkers not to make any sudden movements around me today. I’m a bit jumpy.
The experience that most consistently affirms in me the presence of God and His goodness is and always has been the intimacy of human relationships.
My wife, daughter, sister and friends speak the love and goodness and beauty of God into my heart when my mind sometimes can’t get there. When we find mirrored in the souls of others our own lonely impulses of delight, see our own questions in their words of doubt, trace our own journey in the steps of their walk, and find flickering in their hearts our own hopeful light of faith we learn something of the Incarnation, of God speaking to us through the weakness and wonder of humanity.
My list-maker’s mind wants to make plans for the road ahead, but my poet’s heart is telling it to sit down, to let prayer and beauty and the moon hanging low over city streets do their work. To be present but at peace.
To be tired, but awake.