I Like Driving at Twilight

I love driving at Twilight. I’d forgotten that until I started working again. Driving home in the near-dark with Sinatra playing through the speakers is a nightly experience I consistently relish.

In the Winter rains, the fresh air and delicate winds bring a certain feel with them.

There’s something quite magical about the mix of neon and starlight, of headlights and stoplights reflecting off the hard pavement and sidewalks.

When I was otherwise unemployed, my driving was nearly confined to only the sandy desert roads less maintained by the City. Now I traverse Main Street each day. With Winter on its way out and Spring starting to show (at least trying to nudge an appearance now and then), the sky isn’t as dark as early.

Winter Sunset

Winter Sunset

Just a few minutes can make all the difference in the world. Soon I’ll be staying at work just a few moments longer to avoid blindly driving into the Western Sun. In a matter of weeks my Twilight excursions will be a memory for nearly another year.

It’s a bit ironic that my favorite music is “New York, New York” which I blast while driving between single story buildings surrounded by Joshua Trees and the occasional Coyote.

Someday I’ll get to New York. Until then, in the Twilight and even in the summer, Sinatra sings me home.

And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!

You may also enjoy reading:
When I Get To New York
Writing Prompt: Songs

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Dear God, I Owe You An Apology (Quit Helping Me!)

Dear God,

I owe you an apology. I’ve been working so hard on so many things, and keeping you in my back pocket like a Genie or magic potion. I’ve only pulled you out to yell and ask why things aren’t going my way.

Why is my furnace broken? Why is the Cookbook Project stagnating? Why is Grandpa Jack dead? Why does my family struggle?

Oh, sure. I’ve been praying. A lot. But mostly selfish, “Help Me” prayers.

The truth is, I don’t need your “help”. I don’t want it. To be a Helper means to be an assistant, and I don’t want You to be my assistant. I want You to be my Leader.

I need You to lead me, Lord. To take away these focuses I have on my world, and turn it instead toward Yours. Open my eyes to see Your beauty. Open my hands and heart to help You.

You don’t need me, God. But you chose me. You chose me to speak your Word. To write for you. And I’ve left you out of it lately.

Things aren’t at all easy. They’re not at all the way I would like, the way I plan. But they are the way You set on this Path.

It feels like You turned your back on me. Haven’t I done all You asked with the Cookbook? … but I know the answer is no. I know there is more. I know You are still on the Path, still leading, but my eyes and heart are downcast at my own shadows.

I don’t want to use You for advertising, Lord. I don’t want to use You for my comfort or confidence or as a security blanket. You are my security, but You are so much more.

I tremble still with so much unknown.

But I do know this: I am fearfully and wonderfully made. By You. For You.

And so whatever else happens, I Love You. And I know You love me back.

So lead me, God. Show me how to accomplish what You want me to accomplish.

And please. Take the glory. Even when it’s hard. Even when I want recognition. Even when I want the pat on the back. Even when I question You or want more than You give.

Lead me. Period.

And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!