Small Steps

Jesus counsels us not to worry. But how can we not feel some anxiety, some measure of fear when we consider the unknown, uncertain future of our lives and the lives of those we love? How can we abandon worry when own our personal histories teach us that we have very little control over what may befall us?

We know, intellectually, that we should not worry but trust God. But how do we practice such a robust trust in divine grace and sympathy? How—concretely—do we live into Providence? How do we abandon ourselves to Providence and lose the anxiety and worry that besets the world over?

Small steps. Begin with four words, often repeated: “Thy will be done.”

Sick Day

A rainy Sunday morning

And the sound from three blocks away

Pushing through the foggy quietude,

The ringing of the First Presbyterian bell

A sound soft but strong

Sharp thud

Escaping into the neighborhood,

Which is long accustomed to the old voice.

The ring is no stranger to the

Hair-like moss dripping from oaks and magnolias

Hanging high over the cracked blacktop

Chipped red brick hiding underneath.

The ring grabs the ears and imagination

And I can see the red-robed choir

Ready for the procession and

An acolyte, maybe my son,

Leading the whole holy bunch of them

Into a sacred hour out of step with the times

But into an eternity,

 As I lie flat on my back at home

Listening to the bell and a fire in the hearth

And to a little voice that whispers

“Be still and you will heal.”