By June Mathews
Dear God,
It’s 3:16 a.m., and for the second time in the past two hours, I’ve been awakened by one of your thunderstorms. And truthfully, “awakened” is a bit mild. “Blasted out of bed” better describes what this most recent incident felt like. One minute I was drifting through dreamland, and the next, I was startled bolt upright by what sounded like a heavenly bowling tournament taking place directly overhead.
Then there were the two frantic Chihuahuas wreaking havoc with the bed covers. Do you know how skittish these little guys can be? Since you created them, I’m betting you do. And in that case, you also know they often lose control of their bodily functions when scared out of their wits. So as soon as you and I finish this conversation, I’ll be heading to the linen closet for a clean blanket.
And seriously, that last bolt of lightning was a little too close for comfort. I don’t know exactly what got hit out there, but the cable is now on the blink. So any chance of weathering this storm with TVLand reruns or Facebook literally just got zapped. Bummer.
And while I’ve got you, can you please tell me what’s happened to my ability to sleep over the past few years? Time was, a storm like this would have affected me much like a lullaby. I could sleep through the noise without turning a hair and wake up refreshed the next morning.
Nowadays, I rarely sleep well on a calm night, much less one like this. And to make matters worse, Jimmie is sleeping like a rock.
Excuse me? Maybe his conscience is clearer than mine?
Not funny, Lord. I’m in no mood for jokes right now.
Oh…you’re not, huh?
Well then, on that uncomfortable note, let’s talk about something else.
Like those shoes I was wearing when I ran through the ankle-deep puddles in the restaurant parking lot last evening. Do you know how much I paid for those things? Well, of course you do. Like everything else on earth, my debit card transactions are no secret to the Ruler of the Universe. So would you mind watching over that pricey pair of sandals, making sure they dry without losing their shape and smelling like dead fish from now on?
Oh, all right, I know that praying for my shoes when there are people in the world going without is incredibly shallow. And I haven’t been very nice about the weather, either. So maybe I should try again…
Dear God,
Thank you for the rain and that I’m in a dry bed (well, except for a slightly damp blanket) in an air-conditioned house with a new roof that cured a pesky leak over the sunroom door.
I also thank you for my sleeping husband who’s going to be wider awake than I’ll be in the morning and thus willing to serve me what will be a badly needed cup of coffee in bed. And thanks, too, for the furry little family members who bring so much joy to my life, even though they cause me extra trouble at times.
I pray that you’ll protect those lacking shelter from the storms, and I humbly ask that you forgive my earlier spate of ungratefulness.
But, Lord, I also know you care about the details of our lives and that nothing is too small for us to pray about. So with the budget being on the tight side this month and my ongoing reluctance to part with money not going for a good cause or groceries (which I guess could also be considered a good cause), could you please help me out with those shoes?
Amen.