I couldn't sleep.
I lay in bed tossing and turning.
Jacob wrestling with his angel,
Begging a name.
I too wanted reassurance,
A guarantee of safe passage,
A promise of peace.
I arose feeling just as lame.
Two choices lay ahead:
Spend the day as I had spent the night,
Or get myself on the mountain
And walk it off.
I chose the latter and this is what I found:
It is utterly comical that I can spend the morning hours worrying about "what I shall eat and drink and wherewithal I shall be clothed" when, in those same short hours, Life is preparing something so breathtakingly beautiful that just witnessing it brought me to my knees. Grace. What is there to worry about? To be anxious about?