Save us from weak resignation
To the evils we deplore.
Let the search for Thy salvation
Be our glory evermore.
Grant us wisdom, grant us courage,
Serving Thee whom we adore,
Serving Thee whom we adore.

Harry E. Fosdick (professor of homiletics and Baptist/Presbyterian pastor), “God of Grace and God of Glory
which is sung to the tune Cwm Rhondda, at least in the congregations I grew up in

The sun has been out all day. That’s likely made a difference.

One of my classmates let me “borrow her glasses” to see someone I’ve been frustrated with/near/about in an additional way. Now that I’m remembering, I’m not sure whether he’d be happy about what she sees, but that won’t make it less truthful. Or stop me from grabbing a few more deep breaths on his behalf than I’ve previously been willing to inhale.

I have discharged my scholastic obligations until next Monday. My exam today went more fluidly than my other ones—my past three quizzes, my prior exam for this class—so my innards feel more squishy and breathable. And I have drafted the remainder of the nine tiny essays that are soon to be sent off on their tour of Presbyterian Powers That Be!


It’s been years since I’ve thought of a grey time like yesterday’s as “weak” or “resigned,” and still there’s a quality of stuck- or doomed-ness to them that fits. Intellectual knowing is never sufficient on days like those… and I remain relieved that today has sun within as well as without.

[Robert, I miss you.]

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