"Our Father Which Art...."

Lately I feel like I don't know how to pray. What could i possibly have to say? Please do this? Please do that? Protect him? Heal her? I no longer know how God works. I don't think I ever did know, but I sure thought I knew more than now. Dobson and MacArthur and Ezzo said what was what, and I believed it. Now I feel as if I'm trying to cough up that hook, line and sinker I swallowed, without also coughing up my lungs.

All I can muster these days is prayers along the lines of Anne Lamott:
"helphelphelp" and "thank you thank you thank you"

or Madelaine L'Engle:
"Dear God,
I hate you.
love, me"


God help me...
...and bless you.

Class of 2006

Tonight (or at least this weekend) is graduation for many in the various classes of 2006. I wrote a little poem in their honor:



Get a Job

no more classes, no more books
now I just get my parents
dirty looks