Wednesday, August 20, 2003

At Greenbelt...............
Help us remember that the idiot who cut us up in traffic is a single mother who worked nine hours that day and is rushing to Greenbelt to cook a meal and settle the kids down so they can have a good first day at the festival and
spend a few precious moments with her friends who have saved hard to get to Greenbelt.

Help us to remember that the pierced, tattooed, disinterested young man who can't handle his change correctly is a worried YMCA Hostel resident who is behind in his rent and cannot afford the cheapest hotdog on site. At the same time balancing his apprehension over with his fear of not getting
on well with the group he came with.

Remind us, Lord, that the scary looking young woman, rolling her eyes and cannot stop moving her body, is a recovering slave to addictions that we can only imagine in our worst nightmares.

Remind us that the scars of the self harming woman, scarred for life, is just like me with my scars that hinder and equip at the same time. And remember that we, maybe, can just hide ours better.

Help us to remember that the old couple walking annoyingly slow through the festival site and blocking our progress are savoring this moment, knowing that, based on the biopsy report she got back last week, this will
be the last year that they will be at Greenbelt together.

Creator God, remind us each day that, of all the gifts you give us, the
greatest gift is love. That it is not enough to share that love with those we
hold dear. But those who, on first impressions, make us shudder, or sigh or grunt with irritability.

Open our soul and press your finger tip right on that part, the part to raise your love to the surface. So it touches the practical. The proactive. The love department.
Make our Greenbelt an act of love.