I sing my hymn of praise to a blacktop, to bright headlights, to the black cat whose eyes shine at me in the dark. To the feel of rubber on road, to the car seats which have held us up and seen us slip away on countless adventures.
I learn to live in a movie where the plot is scattered and the characters aren’t perfectly written. I don’t like this director’s earlier work better, because the film gets better and better with each passing minute. The colour is improving and sharpening. And the actors are learning to trust the direction and the composer is adding new harmonies to the score.
I pray for hope. For strength. And for eyes that really see. I pray to my Jesus and to anyone else who shares his love and vision. I send out prayers for a world of light and strength and beauty and these prayers find comfort in numbers. My prayers form islands of hope with other prayers whispered in every language by every faith.
I take this backbone and straighten it, in the hopes of walking as firmly down this winding path. I’ve been bent and twisted and today, I’d like to see the clouds.