wait a minute Mr Postman

...postman pat, postman pat
postman pat and his black and white cat
early in the morning...

early in the morning. unthinkable time now. but frustration ensues. and it's not just the work.

I'm sorry Lord. again. i wish i could pray. i wish i could watch. but it's getting increasingly tougher and harder. and i'm struggling.

strange how one saturday can be filled with moments of chicken rice marathon ecstasy, yet be tainted by the sadness of sleeping on QT (again); today was quite a happy day - pre camp and all was so exciting, so fun-filled, so meaningful, so tiring. but it had to end in this way. i mean. the usual emptiness didn't even ensue. but it had to end this way.

Have you ever had these moments where...you start to hate yourself. not in the sense of not loving yourself, but becoming absolutely disgusted with that sinful, ugly part of yourself, and wish you were free. but cannot be free? ever?

i chewed on ah balling today. one was sesame. two were peanut. i never knew what the fourth was. perhaps we'll never know.

and we'll never know. aye. God just save me. please.

and i wait. again. upon you. for you. where are you mr postman? i'm waiting for that letter.

that letter from ahhh. from God.

and i'll receive one day, open it's little seal. to find, with pleasant surprise, a package of love. and this package is wrapped with grace, stuffed with forgiveness; and inside there sits a rather quaint card - on it the picture of a stubby candle, still aflame. and on it, the inscription:

pass it on tim. pass it on. pass this love on to my sheep.

ah. but i'm so sinful Lord. ah but i'm so inadequate. so tired. so inadequate.

and the wrapping suddenly reminds me:

My grace is sufficient for you