Cliff Hanging

We have just finished a week of prayer at our church.  This is the second year we have done this. 

This year I came back from one of the most relaxing holidays I have been on – ever – to one of the busiest weeks of my year.  Every day seemed to be packed with obligations at work and, on top of those, things I had chosen to do for my family and for my church.  And Leo was away for a good part of the week leaving me on my own to handle family issues such as driving and picking up kids, laundry and all those other mundane things that have to get done around home.  Everyone, including my married son, pitched in and things got done. 

I needed this week of prayer.  Sometimes when we are planning it I feel almost selfish realizing that I am going to be one of the biggest beneficiaries of the whole effort.  I make time to go regularly because I want to so badly. 

It is sometimes strange how God impresses things on my mind as I sit and listen to him.  I know I need to learn more about loving God.  As I sat and thought about what that might entail, I was almost frightened.  God doesn’t always teach us things in the easy parts of life.  So I don’t know what this need to know God will bring.  It seems a bit like standing at the edge of a cliff (and I am afraid of heights) and knowing that I could be asked to step off it.  I am frightened and yet drawn to the edge at the same time.  If the journey is to continue I have to go forward.  I can’t just sit on the edge forever.  And back to where I’ve been is not the direction I want to head.

Heading into a new week I already know that parts of it are going to be extremely hard.  There are places I would rather not go.  I don’t know the results of decisions I have to make but it looks like I don’t have the option of not taking any action. 

God, hang on to me tightly if I am jumping off a cliff.  You know I don’t like heights.

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