how this be

i imagine that if we all compared our inner-monologues, we would all be at least half-crazy. for instance, while i was waiting in the drive-thru at subway, i went from shaving my legs, to buying new shoes, to aristotle and current american politics in about 15 seconds. seriously.

for the last year, much of my prayer life has been focused around a prayer i read several years ago, by a man named mychal judge, who was the chaplain to the nyfd, and was the first registered casualty of 9/11. father mychal's prayer, the way i say it, goes like this:

"lord Jesus, help me to see what you want me to see. help me to hear what you want me to hear. help me to meet who you want me to meet, and help me to stay out of your way."

it's the first thing i pray in the mornings. it's the last thing i pray at night. i know that to learn what God wants me to learn, i have got to practice radical and absolute surrender, and to be radically compassionate to everyone i encounter. and that scares the absolute crap out of me. to know the power behind what i am saying, to understand the underneath meaning of absolute and unconditional surrender to the God who made me. i mean, it's not like you can really fight city hall, anyway. but being willing to go along for the ride, to abdicate my silly right to kick and scream and protest seems to be the key, lately.

all of which is to say, i really want to get married and have kids. and it's profoundly difficult to understand and appreciate that even though i may want that, it may not be what's in store. and i have to decide, every single day, if i'm going to be sad about what i think i want, or be expectant and excited about what God is doing, at this present moment. some days, it's chicken salad. some days, it's chicken shit. the jury is still out on today.

mil besos,
rmg