Sunday Evening

"It is in vain that you rise up early and go late to rest, eating the bread of anxious toil; for he gives sleep to his beloved." — Psalm 127:2

It is Sunday evening and the first open week is done.

I did not go to church this morning, which is not like me, but the morning had other plans and I followed them. The house was cool and the prayer was already started before I was and I decided to let it be what it was.

Olivia was here on Thursday and asked me whether God gets tired. I have been thinking about it ever since. I told her I thought God pays attention the way she does, and that is a kind of love, and I meant it, but I have been turning it over in my mind like a stone from the creek, smooth and heavier than it looks.

The storm yesterday cleaned everything. The garden is wet and the air is cool for June and the creek is full again and the world looks like it does after it has been forgiven for something, though I do not know what.

Jack's birthday is Wednesday. He turns twelve. I have a card for him. He is the kind of boy who opens a card and says thank you and puts it on his dresser and forgets about it within the hour, which is exactly right for a boy who is turning twelve.

The week ahead has Jack's birthday and then Saturday is the Fourth, which I do not observe but which means the town will be loud and the dogs will be unhappy. I will close the windows and read.