It’s late afternoon and he is hours late in returning from elk hunting. I think back to a few weeks ago, at the Griz game, when my two-year-old boy and I took our first ambulance ride, the final diagnosis was hives, but the paramedics thought it could be anaphylaxis shock. Friends and family around us have marriages that are falling apart. These times make me feel vulnerable. These are the times that I simply have no choice. I choose to believe. I choose to have faith.
I fully recognize, time and again, that this is a choice. I frequently question exactly what is this power that I put so much of my anxiety and hope into, all the things that really matter to me. What I do know, is that when I remember to pray, to communicate with that power that I call God, to recognize that I cannot do it alone, to ask for help, to let go of my control issues and my vision of how I think things should be, it all gets better.
It is almost to 4:00 now; he’s just usually home by now.