Show Me the Place



Dear Eugene,

This is how you pray, Jesus said, Father, your will be done.

 I wonder how this works exactly.  Some mornings I seemed to know what it means, others I was not too sure.

Actually most mornings I was not too sure.  Like this morning.

Wife working from home half-day, taking son to specialist appointment in the afternoon.  I woke early to boot up her computer, and was greeted by a grey screen.  I rebooted it a few times and found online it's call "The grey screen of death."  Blood shot through my brain when I heard that name.  (Not that blood wasn't shooting through my brain always, but such was a moment that you actually heard the Whoosh!)

All of a sudden I am a computer technician.  All of a sudden.

Just like how I became a roofer: The roof leaked at night-->Alex became a roofer the next morning.  All of a sudden.  Just like that.  Clear logic.  Kids sound asleep.  Water dripped from ceiling.  I placed a bucket to catch God's blessing and contemplated my fate next morning, up the roof, halfway between heaven and earth.  Not that I haven't done that before; it's just these damn legs won't stop shaking.

What do I have in me but the strength of sheer will to overcome my fear of the unknown and ascend to the call? I asked.

So how about "God's will"?  How do we will his will when all we have in us is our own will to will our next moment into willful existence?  How do I will God's will to conquer (the grey screen of) death?

Everybody's nice when he gets his way.  Everybody's fine, everybody's agreeable, everybody's thumb-up when life is food picture, vacation smile, and pithy spiritual advice.  Our demon is at bay, for now; a retreat affordable for the time being.  But the fan is whooshing, and something is bound to hit it sooner or later.

Then it will be Halloween.

The troubles came I saved what I could save
A thread of light, a particle, a wave
But there were chains, so I hastened to behave
There were chains, so I loved you like a slave

This morning I saw a boy rolling on concrete pavement like someone had jabbed him in the back with a knife, knowing exactly where it hurts the most.  The engine of both parents' car were still running, one with its driver-side door open to the middle of the road, parents out of their cars, standing right beside the boy, bending down, consoling him.  I pulled Sumi to the other side of the walkway and for a moment thought about closing the open door to avoid another disaster but finally decided against it.

Inconsolable.  The boy was possessed by his Will.  Halloween.

Show me the place, help me roll away the stone
Show me the place, I can't move this thing alone
Show me the place where the Word became a man
Show me the place where the suffering began

Yours, Alex

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