The Women’s March in Washington immersed me in family and politics and place me smack in the middle of the everydayness of life. It was almost impossible to prayerful, or at least to situate myself in a prayerful stance. I was disappointed how easily I marched away from God, although I didn’t march into anger. I was more in the moment along with 500,000 others, including eight family members.
Driving home Monday I told my husband that I might watch a little of the evening news. But half way home, as I read Eleven Hours, a novel about a nurse and women in labor bonding in the delivery room, I found myself settling back into my commitment to be a positive and prayerful presence in the world. I have returned to my reading for compassion project, and have started praying for my enemies, which I am only able to do when I renew my belief in a loving God. It is a challenge to stay hopeful and faithful. Pray, read, pray.
Driving home Monday I told my husband that I might watch a little of the evening news. But half way home, as I read Eleven Hours, a novel about a nurse and women in labor bonding in the delivery room, I found myself settling back into my commitment to be a positive and prayerful presence in the world. I have returned to my reading for compassion project, and have started praying for my enemies, which I am only able to do when I renew my belief in a loving God. It is a challenge to stay hopeful and faithful. Pray, read, pray.
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