The Lord will keep you from all harm--
He will watch over your life;
He will not let your foot slip--
he who watches over you will not slumber.
--Psalm 121

Those first three words: the miracle.
I, for one, cannot speak them.
The ways and thoughts of the Lord
are so utterly, utterly different
from my best guesses, assumptions, my Surely-
He-Woulds (or Wouldn'ts)
that I have found it simply better--
safer-- to keep my mouth shut.
The Lord Will? Beyond me.

Otherwise, disappointment.
It falls more certain than any prayer rises
like concrete on a soul
hoping, expecting,
not the impossible, not exactly,
but stones and snakes
instead of loaves and fishes.
(Funny, our propensity
for snakes.)
He is gracious enough to ignore
our prayers -- our foolish utterings
avoiding pain: "Lord, deliver them
from all things unpleasant: pave
the road in front of them."
When it's the very rocks in the road
that change us, teach us,
that heal us.

I am learning, when I pray,
to hedge the bet: say
May the Lord, or
I Hope That the Lord, or even just
Let the Lord. But mostly,
I am learning a new prayer:
Lord,
do what you want.
We'll deal. Or we won't. Either way,
It'll be good.

Simple, really.

And that's the kicker, isn't it?
The one thing we can count on,
should we ever learn to count.
He is good. Unpredictable,
frustrating, frightening,
insane, daring, mysterious,
good. He is good.
Whatever that means.

To end: What will the Lord do?
Whatever he wants. Simple, really.
The psalmist promises that he will keep us from harm;
I, for one, wonder what he means by harm.
The Lord is good, and we?
We are poor definers of what is good.