Daylight savings time

The sadness has been very present the last 5 days. More present than usual. Often the first thing that greets me when I wake up. There at work, at home, at church, with people who knew Ken, with people who know me, with people who know neither one of us.

Usually it's just under the surface, and I can still do what I need to do. Today at work I managed to get stuff done, but the nausea and preoccupation were there, just keeping me at the edge. At lunch I decided to go for a drive. The tears started in the car. I found myself driving to a friend's house, needing to be loved up close. Called her from my car. She was at work. Just hearing her voice was reassuring.

Made it back to work, and actually got a few things done. Catching up with a colleague about some students I haven't seen for a while, I glanced at the clock and saw that my work day was over. Wow, that was fast!

Out the door, into my car, that's when I realized I had glanced at the one clock in the building that didn't get changed last weekend. The thought of walking back into the building didn't even cross my mind. I found my car making its way to the church.

Alone in the prayer room, with a candle burning, I stared, ached, cried, and soaked in the peace of the place and the prayers that had come before me, the prayers that I know are all around. I closed my eyes and slept.

As I blew out the candle, the smoke went in many directions. A reminder that God is with us at all times, in all places. These words are part of the Children's Worship that I lead on Sunday mornings. A beautiful and powerful image.

An unexpected gift. A gift of time, of stillness, of the peace of God.