My Prayer

@SusanQuinn had perfect timing for me with her post, "Slip Slidin' Away" on the Main feed. (If you see a post by Susan, stop scrolling and read it. Trust me on this.)

The day of the eclipse, I was at an event I helped organize, where families were viewing the Sun as much as we could through an overcast made of cement, building STEM kits, and driving Mars rovers through an apple orchard. I was giving out rockets I made from parts left over from the days when Pratt Hobbies sold rocket kits to schools and scout groups. Everyone was having a great time, and everything I posted on social media concentrated on the good stuff that was going on (except for that damn cloud cover). What I didn't say was that I had to leave halfway through the day. My back just couldn't take it. I had to go home and lie down.

There was a time when I would go to a school, teach three or four science classes and help the kids build about 150 rockets, then come back a week later and help them launch 'em. I refined my kits based on the problems I saw the kids having, and by the time I was done, they were pretty good. I would go to organized rocket launches and fly some stuff for pleasure, as well as selling a few gizmos and gadgets, which I still make.

Lying there in bed, I tried to deal with the fact that those days are gone. Between the therapy that is controlling my prostate cancer and the back pain I get if I stand for more than a couple of minutes, I have said goodbye to a lot of things that were central to my life. I try not to feel sorry for myself; as I said, the cancer is controlled, and without chemo; I am way better off than many of my friends. I am blessed to live in a place that I love, with my daughter and son-in-law to take care of me and the place. I can hold down a full-time job working from home. The audiobook side hustle couldn't be better; I am recording book #84, there are more waiting, and Abraham Lincoln: A Life has sold almost 90 copies since March 30. I am blessed, and I am grateful. But sometimes the changes are overwhelming.

When I woke up, a little poem came to me, and I wrote it down. Over the next couple of days of polishing it, I realized that it was turning into a prayer. I might be pretentious enough to call it a psalm. I have not shared it before now, even with my pastor, because it's intensely personal, but it has comforted me. Susan's post prompted me to share it here, as a separate member-feed-only post, to keep it among friends. (Edited: At Susan's suggestion, I've allowed it to move to the main feed.)

The God of trees and waters is my God;
How can I not be joyful?
The God of conflict and challenge sends me friends;
Who shall make me afraid?
The God of nature sends cats to comfort me;
How can I not be content?
The God of foolish old men forgives my foolishness;
Can I learn to forgive myself?
The God of quarks and galaxies gives me curiosity;
How can I not study and wonder?
The God of interlocking creation reveals Himself to me through it.
How can I fear my death?
Surely it is part of His design
And the God of foolish old men
Will find a use for me.
Amen