Holy One,
I hold an ideal for
Saturday night sleep
a complete sort of rest
that will deliver me
to Sunday, your day,
ready to represent,
to speak clearly
and winsomely,
to listen carefully
and deeply,
to teach wisely
and humbly.
I hold an ideal
that does not account
for Saturday evening news
that has me
checking Twitter
and texting
grown-up children,
refreshing news sites
and cursing
journalists who clocked out
for the weekend, or
at least, the evening.
I meant to clock out.
Instead, I woke
rubbing eyes still tired,
nodding over my phone
to start the day
just as I ended the last.
Through bleary eyes,
I read bad news;
I prepare to bring
the Good News.
Wake me up!
Wake our hearts to you.
Amen.
