Saturday, March 21, 2015

Writing to God: Day 28

Job 9: 1-12

I never write at night.  I'm usually counting sheep by this time.  But Jeff, Abbey, and I have just returned home from an overnight in Hopkinsville.  It usually doesn't take much to reunite us with my parents, my sister, brother-in-law and precious niece.  But this trip down originated for a different reason.  Every March for the last 23 years, the museums of the city of Hopkinsville (where I was born and raised) host an Edgar Cayce Hometown Seminar.  Edgar Cayce is the most renowned and interesting American psychic from the 20th century.  He is most commonly known as the "sleeping prophet."  (You can find out more about him here  He is my kinfolk.  My Grandfather, D.D. Cayce III, who died this past September, was a historian and pretty much a celebrity in this world of enlightenment and holistic living - due to his relation to Edgar and his vast knowledge about his life.  So this weekend I went home to go with my mom to the seminar and accept an award given by Edgar Cayce's Association of Research and Enlightenment in honor of Granddaddy.  Sitting in the historic Alhambra Theater, a little cold, and remembering my days up on that stage in 4-H variety shows and high school choir concerts, I realized how important Granddaddy was and how much depth of spirituality I'm missing out on each day I let go by without honoring or learning more about the life and teachings of Edgar Cayce.
So, as my prayer prompt works perfectly for a nighttime prayer, here it is from the sleepiness of my mind and heart.  I hope it speaks to you in a way that touches your own story and life.

This whole day, God, you were right there under my nose.  You were right there.  Opening up doors and windows of new insight and discovery.  Beckoning to me in a unique way to come looking for you.  I would rather whine about my loneliness, sometimes, than attempt to open my ears and eyes.

This whole day, God, even when I felt alone, I wasn't.  And now that the stars are out; now that the darkness has settled in and all the laughter of the day is asleep…now do I feel the presence that I mistook for absence.

My whole life, God, you were right there.  You still are.


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