Where was I? Oh yes - I bought a book. Two, actually. All the more reading for me to do, but it’s good. I like reading. After all, if my world isn’t quite the way I like it (and is it ever? I’m not complaining - just saying) I can dive into someone else’s less-than-perfect world and wonder at the lopsidedness of it all.

Lopsided - I love that word. And that world.

Gilmore Girls. Drama. That is, again, another world. I identify with it all every once in a while.

I spoke last time of intersections - and we’ve intersected again. Strangely. Even humourously. I forget at times that God has a twisted sense for that sort of thing, and he keeps forking the road, pointing at Memphis, saying something about Vampires. You didn’t understand that - maybe I didn’t either.

Can you believe it took me fourty-five minutes to write those four paragraphs? Neither can I.

An addendum to this all would do, I think. I have been reading Psalms this evening: perhaps if the master could calm a storm with words, these are the sentences spoken to still cloud and water, that even heart and emotion obey him.

I’ll share. As a father has compassion for his children, so the Lord has compassion for those who fear him. He knows how we were made; he remember that we are dust. You may recognize those words as the 103rd Psalm; or perhaps you don’t. Read it. I have no pretense of telling you why it’s true - but it is, that much I know. The coil is mortal and wound at his fingertips, but wound gently. I am broken softly, falling on that rock, that cornerstone. I will pray tonight for something I don’t deserve to have, a future not tuned to the past - that the intersecting lines of my life will weave a pattern, that this thread will be brightly woven. And beyond, even: word of how I am dust may reach his ears. He said them first, I merely repeat. I merely feel the places they’ve been chisled into this pressed stone.

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