Imagine you are a knitter...
You go to your knitting group one week and tell your friends, including one who makes mosaics, about your 19 year old son. He has juvenile diabetes and has been refusing to wear medical tags. Your voice is filled with love and concern. A week later you are not at the knitting group. Your son went to bed and never woke up.
I come home from yoga and ask Mosaic Woman how knitting group went. She tells me.
One word keeps circulating through my thoughts.... enough.
Last night I watch people, who survived their younger days, play jazz. Two black violinists, an Asian pianist, and a Russian bass player named Boris get my attention.
But it is Doc Gibbs standing in the midst of his percussion that has me thinking about communicating with God. It was too late last night. Too early right now.