I awake in the darkness of the early morning, troubled,
to find that I have missed your call. The usual “0” on the answering machine
has been replaced by a blinking “1.”
I listen and wonder why I am wired the way I am wired.
It’s not that I didn’t talk to you in my head all day, but I must say
that the conversation left much to be desired.
Oh for the faith not to be afraid of real conversations and the love to let go
where the boards come together and the seam shows.
Imperfections exist not to depress me, but to give me joy in the midst
of my time and place.
I am human.
I am loved.
I am full of grace.