I’m writing this yesterday afternoon. By the time you read this, sometime on June 13 or after, your world – and mine – may be very different places than they are as I am writing this.

It’s a Sunday afternoon. Some friends of mine are graduating from high school. My mother is preparing to celebrate her 80th birthday on Monday. Nancy has been bringing peace to her heart by putting her hands in the dirt. I spent awhile bringing peace to my head by cleaning up the piles in my office.

But by the time you read this, there may have been a storm. There may have been a heart attack. There may have been a wonderful graduation party that was everything you imagined.

I spend enormous amounts of energy thinking about what would happen if I said something one way rather than another. If I ignored that conversation and concentrated on this one. If you say this and I say that and then you do this and I do that.

Then I think about what I wrote on my hand last Wednesday morning.

“TODAY”

I’m terrible at today. I want to think about tomorrow. I want to ignore the fact that Jesus told a group of his followers, “Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” I want to ignore the fact that Jesus looked at lilies like the day lilies outside my window and said, “See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. ”

It takes enormous faith to say, “I’ll leave tomorrow up to God.” Almost as much as “I can worry tomorrow into existence.”

And you can still leave a comment for Rich’s ride.