As I think about the purpose of Loud Time, I'm realizing that it demands a lot more self-discipline than I can muster up on my own. I'm purportedly writing about "all things loud and timely," which should give me plenty of ground to cover, but then I fall into navel-gazing and trolling for compliments. (Thanks to Pete, by the way, for stepping up to the mike.) Then again, loud time as a sacred practice--which is where I hope to get--is the negotiation of several I's following one big Thou. Or something like that. That's one reason I like comments--it's accountability and virtual mutual affirmation all in one. I am not the center of the universe in Loud Time, but I certainly am one occupant.
Soon to join the party, incidentally, is the as yet un-named and formally ungendered offspring of my sister and brother-in-law; check out the ultrasound and cast your gender vote here.
Anyway, here's the prayer from Banks, who remains a genius and one of my heroes. He's lucky he lives on another continent or I might very well stalk him. See the earlier posts in my December and January archives. And I promise more manly, loud and timely posts in the coming weeks.
Guard us against attempting too much because of
a false sense of our indispensability,
a false sense of ambition,
a false sense of rivalry,
a false sense of guilt,
or a false sense of inferiority:
yet do not let us mistake our responsibilities,
fail to be stimulated by others,
overlook our weaknesses,
or know our proper limits.
Enable us also to realise
that important though this life is, it is not all,
that we should view what we do in the light of eternity,
not just our limited horizons,
that we ourselves have eternal life now.
God our Father,
you are not so much timeless as timeful,
you do not live above time so much as hold
"all times . . . in your hand",
you have prepared for us a time when we will have leisure
to enjoy each other and you to the full,
and we thank you, appreciate you and applaud you for it.