Driving to church, early morning, my mind streams one question after another, unending, like I95. This route is as familiar as these prayers, a path I have worn down hard these many weeks behind me. Here I am today, all over again.
Covering the miles, my eyes watch the gray pavement just in front of me, and my spirit moves slowly, weighted in my words to God, discouragement close by.
Ahead, something tugs at my thoughts in real time. Pay attention. Cars are pulled off the road, lights are flashing. Traffic gathers. The cruiser and its detainee sit on the left side of the road where I can get a good view, and I gawk like everyone else, expecting to see – not this.
The black pick-up truck has giant letters across its tailgate, the message in white, all caps, loud and clear. HOLD FAST.
My own words – last blog post – back at me.
My response – a choking, bark-like sound, then tears. And now – recounting it to you.
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