This small town neighborhood is settled in slumber. The dog next door is still. No cars. No parties. Nothing more than the solitary raccoon making his nightly rounds.
After falling asleep too early in exhaustion on the couch, it’s my time to sit with a cup of Russian tea a la Kodiak and consider the day, what I’ve learned, what I’ve prayed, where I’ve succeeded and where I’ve fell short. The day’s end has a bit of the feel of Days of Future Past.
Another day ends in grateful sobriety; once more, God has done for me what I could not do for myself. I watched better than I often do for God working and I was rewarded. I faced the challenge of accepting others’ gracious praise without indulging my foolish pride and I was partly successful. I think the two are connected somehow.
I’ve read of somebody’s dear trans friend who exactly one year ago took what she thought was her only option out and I pray for those who despised and misunderstood her. I pause and shudder, realizing just how close I once came myself.
I try not to engage tomorrow prematurely. Not yet. Not yet. Meetings with the principal and with the case manager will come and I will need the wisdom to focus on the things I can actually do something about. But not yet.
The world around me is sleeping and I need to dally in dreamland myself now. Let the day go. It was a good one.