#two months just two months Merin and then you can rest

[merinelsa]

.

[evangeline-of-montfort]

ash garden (i)

read it here on ao3

I scuff my boots against the rocky ground, bored out of my damn mind. My assignment this week must be one of the most pointless in border patrol history. This sector is of no importance whatsoever, a lonely stretch of granite and pine trees. But due to its proximity to Davidson’s estate, it has to be patrolled.

The day is overcast but chilly, and I huddle in my thin uniform. Gray clouds scud the light sky. Fall is bearing down on Montfort: according to Carmadon, we have about two weeks before the first snows hit Ascendant. 

My ability forms a protective shield around me, searching for the steel of raider weapons. As usual, there is nothing. The Prairie raids have slowed since Montfort troops withdrew from the Dancing War and border security tightened. But I haven’t lived this long—twenty-five years, now—by being complacent.

The edge of the cliff looms before me: six inches of granite are all that stand between me and the hundred foot drop. I peer over the edge anyway, a cursory glance to check for raiders, who have been known to scale the cliffs. None.  Obviously. I straighten up again and pace back towards the Hawkway, the road that runs from Ascendant in the mountains all the way down to the plains.

I switch on my wireless, a broadcaster that taps into the same signal as the other patrol units. “Sector E-1 is clear.” 

Static. I wait for the standard response from the rest of my unit, but nothing comes.

“I repeat, Sector E-1 is clear.” My voice rings out in the silence, echoing off the mountainsides and into the wilderness.

Still nothing. I switch the wireless off and then on again. No change. The device feels the same as ever, even to my ability: all the inner workings are fine, so it isn’t a mechanical issue. 

A sense of unease rises inside me. In my five years on border patrol, I’ve never lost connection like this. Something is wrong. 

There’s another, smaller, wireless hanging from my belt. A direct line to Elane and the Premier’s office. She made me take it in case of an emergency. I switch it on, just in case.

Her voice comes through the other end immediately. “Eve? Is everything alright?” There are other sounds in the background: shuffling paper and people talking in lowered voices. I’m guessing she’s sitting in one of Davidson’s meetings.

“I’ve lost contact with everyone else in my unit,” I say. Even as I talk, my eyes scan back and forth along the tree line, watching for potential danger. There’s no sign of metal, no sign of movement. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t anyone waiting, just out of sight. “I’m keeping this line open just in case. Is that alright?”

“Yeah. Stay safe. I love you.” 

“Love you too.”

I hook the wireless back onto my belt and continue pacing, but farther away from the ledge. If I have to fight, I’d rather not do it backed against a cliff.

A minute passes. Then five, then ten. I’m about to call it a false alarm when I hear a sound like muted thunder in the distance.

Then it draws closer, and I realize it isn’t thundering. 

It’s hoofbeats.  

~~~

“Love you too.”

I smile briefly at Eve’s voice on the other end before setting the device on the table. On my right, Lyrisa glances at me, a question in her eyes.

“Everything’s fine,” I say, even as worry snakes its way through my heart. “Apologies for the disruption.”

“Nothing to worry about, Elane,” Davidson says from across the table. “If you need to be excused, or anything else at all, let me know.” His expression is worried, tense. I used to think the premier was immovable, his restraint unbreakable. After five years, I know better—he can be read like anyone else, if you know him well enough. 

The others—Davidson’s closest aides and various Scarlet Guard officials—shoot me worried glances. “It’s going to be okay,” I reassure them. “Really. We should continue.” 

It feels like I’m lying through my teeth. My mind is consumed by Eve, my  fiancée, on patrol. Sworn to protect us all, even at the cost of her own life. But I have my own job to do—our weekly intel meetings are preciously short—and I won’t let my emotions get in the way. 

“Back to the situation in the Lakelands, then,” Ada Wallace says after a second. “One of their nobles made contact with the Silver Secession last week.” 

She’s the only person in the room without a notebook or files of any sort—naturally, she doesn’t need them. Sometimes, I envy her ability. Paperwork is a nightmare.

“Lord Cassius Merin,” Davidson says, consulting his own papers. “What do we know about him?” 

“He’s a cousin to Jidansa Merin,” Lyrisa says. “Very close to the Cygnet royal family. I believe I met him once.” 

Ada frowns, and I can practically see the gears whirring in her mind. “The royal family and court are still in turmoil following Cenra’s abdication last month. If Merin contacted the Secessionists on their orders…”

I shudder. The Nortan Silver Secession are violent blood supremacists and bigots, intent on restoring Silver rule through any means possible. If the Lakelands back their play, that could be very bad for us. “An alliance between them could be strong enough to stabilize the Lakelands and threaten the Nortan States,” I say. “Especially after the Dancing War.” This has always been the endgame for them—restore the Nortan monarchy, fix the thrones that Cal and Eve broke. 

“Potentially,” Ada says. “But I don’t see who they could possibly put on the throne. Maven is long dead. Cal is not a viable–”

Suddenly I feel the wireless vibrating against the table. I put it to my ear, my heart pounding like a kettle drum. “Eve? Eve, are you there?”

Her voice is nearly unintelligible, punctuated by crackling static. “There’s—trouble—raid—E1–” A high-pitched whine splits the air, and I jolt in my seat, dropping the device to the table with a clatter. 

When I raise it to my ear again, there is nothing but static.

Trouble, she said. A raid. 

The blood drains from my face. The room has fallen silent, every eye fixed on me. “She needs help,” I say hoarsely. “Evangeline’s in danger.”

Lyrisa grabs my arm, her grip bruising and viselike. “I’ll go help her. I can get to Sector E1 in five minutes if I take a cycle up the Hawkway.”

“You can’t–”

“Watch me. Whoever tried to hurt Evie, I’ll kick their ass–”

“No—Elane is correct. You are too valuable.” Davidson’s voice cuts through the rising clamor like a knife. “A Piedmont princess, the former betrothed of Orrian Cygnet? You cannot let yourself be captured.”

She doesn’t back down. “There’s only one cycle—we can send one person. I’m the only fighter here. It makes  sense for me to go.”

“You will not be going,” the premier says. “That is final.” 

I turn to him, desperate. “Evangeline needs help. She might be injured, or—” Bile rises in my throat. Eve isn’t dead. She can’t be dead. I can’t imagine a world without her in it.

“Enough,” Davidson says. His voice is deadly calm, but his eyes burn with gold fire as he stands from the table. “I will go.”

“So Lyrisa is too valuable, but the premier of this country is not?” Carmadon appears suddenly in the doorway of the library, and I wonder how long he’s been eavesdropping outside. His face is as hard as I’ve ever seen it, cut with lines of anxiety. “Dane, please—”

“I will go,” Davidson repeats firmly. “My life should hold no greater value than those of my officers. Premiers can...” He hesitates, and I can see through his composure to the person he is underneath: shaken but determined. 

“They can be replaced,” he says at last.

His husband closes his eyes, as if he’s willing the words away. “No. They can’t.  You can’t.” 

“Every second I spend here is a second Evangeline could be in greater danger. If anything’s happened to her…” His voice darkens, and I realize Dane Davidson would be a formidable enemy on the battlefield indeed. I pity whoever tries to cross him. 

“Then let me go with you,” Carmadon says suddenly. His voice is afraid, but he does not back down. “I can—”

“You can stay here, in case something happens to me,” Davidson interrupts. He steps through the doorway, and the look he exchanges with his husband is so private that I drop my gaze. “I cannot fight knowing you are in danger as well, Carm. I cannot afford distractions.”

I am suddenly reminded of Evangeline before she went to defend the walls of Corvium. She had begged me to remain safely at the Ridge House. You would only distract me, she’d said. So reluctantly, I had stayed. 

She and Davidson are so similar. Destined for greatness, destined to fight a dozen wars and emerge victorious. Theirs is a flame that will never stop burning. 

And Carmadon and I? We are similar as well. We tend the hearth, feed the fire, ensure the blaze doesn’t consume itself. We are content to stand in the shadow of greatness, strong enough to let our loves go again and again to the jaws of mortal danger.

Davidson presses a kiss to his husband’s forehead. “Trust that I will come home to you. But if I cannot? Have strength, my dear Carmadon. Have strength.” 

The door swings shut as he leaves, and I pray that I have not sent him to his death. 

~~~

tag list: @evangelineartemiasamos @fuvkingmagnus @lilyharvord @freaky-freiday @drasticsarcastic 

[ramblinganthropologist]

Writober 2020 - 30 (Dream)

Summary: The cast of Blight is about to get a very important visitor. What will Cherche have to tell them from beyond the grave? Well... a lot, basically. Like make sure she’s bi this time, guys.

---

“Hey. Are you awake or what?”

No, his fucking alarm wasn't due to go off until 5:30...

Eli woke, not because he wanted to, but because the sudden weight on his lower body made him sit up in bed. He glanced around his room, frowning. It looked... normal. His cat was sleeping, nobody was there. Yet he was pretty sure...

Nah.

“Fuck, maybe I need to go to the bathroom...”

“Or maybe you need to listen.”

There was that voice again, only now there was a body to go with it. Well, body was a bit much. Sure, it looked like a body, but it was pretty much see-through and kind of blue tinged. He got the idea anyway, though. There was a strange elf in his bedroom, wearing armor, and looking rather pissed off at him.

A very pissed off elf with red hair and familiar tattoos in black...

“Just checking, you're not Shianni messing with me, right?” Doubtful, he was pretty sure she didn't know where he lived, much less be able to get into his apartment on her own. Besides, Shianni was probably in bed with her wife. The last thing she'd want to do was come bother him in the middle of the night in costume.

So... the alternative...

“Catch on, then?” Cherche Mahariel, in the spiritual flesh, was standing in his bedroom. She nudged a fallen plush toy with her foot, her hand passing through as she tried to pick it up. “I didn't see any kids, so this would be yours?”

Yeah... it went with all the other cute stuffed skeletons in the room. Eli might have talked a good game... but when he was at home, he had a theme going: cute and dead. Maybe that made his bedroom look a little too juvenile, but it wasn't like he was inviting people over. He was strictly a fuck at their place kind of guy.

“Guess this is why you haven't invited Jake over.” She shot him a look. “Besides the whole being a massive dick thing.”

Eli held up his hands, scowling. “The guy's a mess, if he can't handle my criticism-”

Cherche's ghostly finger passed through his chest, causing him to shiver. “It's not his fault you have a stick up your ass for not being cast as Zevran. Let it the fuck go already, they were looking for trans actors anyway.”

Apparently, ghosts got to sit in on casting calls. Who knew?

He scowled as he backed up. “I do not have a stick up my ass about that! He's just completely wrong for the role! His Antivan is atrocious at best, and we have zero chemistry!”

Of course, it was hard to have chemistry with anyone when they were stumbling over their lines and he was coated in fake mud. Miris Tabris wasn't exactly like his other roles, to say the least. The taciturn warrior was really stretching his ability to act, and that was saying something. Unlike his costar, he at least had the accent.

Other things... well, he couldn't help having a dick. It was there.

“Well maybe that's because he's fucking terrified of you. You keep snapping at him every step he makes.” Cherche scowled at him again. “Is  this how you treat everyone you have a crush on, or just the people who won't sleep with you?”

Eli felt his face heat up as he turned away. Now they were just getting ridiculous. Well, besides the whole arguing with a ghost thing. To actually imply he liked the Starkhaven stuntman turned actor was ludicrous. Ok, maybe in costume he wasn't so bad... but in an everyday situation, forget about it. He was like a dead fish.

A very muscular, incredibly flexible dead fish, mind you...

Nope, not going there.

“I do not like him.” His voice came out flat. “And if you haven't noticed, I do ok on the sex front.”

The elf rolled her eyes. “You haven't had anyone over in six months because the last one almost found out where your union dues actually go to. It can't seriously still be a big deal that you're a necromancer, can it?”

She didn't get an answer right away. Eli was too busy watching as the skeleton of a cat rose from a plush pet bed and came to rest at Cherche's feet. Then the bones of a squirrel zoomed onto his shoulder. At least Rocky had his back.

He patted the skeleton on the bony head. “It doesn't go with my image, ok?”

“Dorian Pavus seems to prove necromancers can be sexy.” Cherche's hand made contact with Mrs. Kitty, and the skeleton rubbed against her for more pets. “You're just afraid to let anyone actually know who you are. That's why you act like an asshole to everyone.”

Eli didn't have an argument to that. Instead, there was a dark feeling in the pit of his stomach that refused to go away, try as he might to ignore it. Even on his best days, it was always there, waiting for him to drop into it.

Of course he was... people thought he was a freak when they actually knew him. The sexy costar was a fine role to play instead.

Cherche shook her head as she watched him. “Stop being such a dick to Jake. Maybe talk with your coworkers a little bit more. I doubt they'd care you're a dorky necromancer.”

“I am not-”

She shot him a look. “How many skele-friends plushies surround your damn bed, Rodriguez? It looks like a toy store in there.”

Ouch, low blow...

Eli shook his head, frowning. He was starting to feel exhausted, like his body weighed a thousand pounds. The walls were starting to look a little thin too. Even though it had been a while since he had last used magic, he remembered enough. This was the Fade, and he was clearly dreaming this conversation.

Well, that or Cherche had come to personally kick his ass. That was a possibility.

“Just try to give a shit and see where it gets you.” She knocked him on the shoulder. “Or else I'm coming back.”

Then she pushed him back to his bed. “Now get back to sleep,  I got two other stops to make tonight and none of them involve you.”

Eli was left sitting on his fade bed, staring as she disappeared from view. In the morning, he would probably chalk this up as a strange dream brought on by reading the script. At least he would tell himself that as he settled back in.

Fucking Fade ghosts... acting like they knew everything.

…

No, it was just his imagination. Had to be.

---

“Rin-Rin, you getting up or what lethallin?”

Five more minutes...

Merin yawned as he rubbed his eyes. The time on his phone said he still had a few hours left to sleep, yet he was definitely awake. He would have considered rolling over and going back to bed, but there was a problem with that. See, he wasn't alone in bed – someone was sitting on the other side, keeping him from getting back to sleep.

Somebody in hunter armor with Sylaise vallaslin...

“You're not Shianni...” He blinked, the details foggy. “Why is Cherche Mahariel in my bedroom?”

She nodded, and maybe looked a little pleased. “You caught on faster than the last guy, thank the gods.”

Apparently, she was dream hopping too. Would wonders never cease?

Merin knew enough about dreams and the Fade to not worry too much. It wasn't like he was a mage anyway – its influence on him was minimal. Still, it wasn't every day he got to talk to source material, he might as well use it.

Besides, he had always been a Cherche fan.

“So... why come visit me? Am I not playing Cahel right?”

Cherche, thankfully, shook her head. “No, he's pretty pleased with your work. Besides, if he wasn't he'd be the one visiting. Even when dead, da'len is stubborn.”

Her eyes were laser focused on him. “No, this is about your love life. Are you going to get that or  what?”

His face turned a mix of red and purple as he blushed furiously. “Oh come on, you've got to be kidding me... that's why you're here?”

Talk about humiliating. Here he had thought they were going to actually have a talk about something important. Instead, it was turning into gossip hour at the cafeteria table. He was missing out on sleep for that?

Damn his inability to say no to an elder... especially a dead one as well known as Cherche.

Cherche adjusted her position in bed, stretching out her legs. She was taller than him – damn it all. “Well, yeah. You two keep dancing around each other and it's making me wonder if I've got a bad case of deja-vu.”

Merin's face only got redder as he turned away. “It's not that easy... he's the hottest guy in Orlais and I'm...”

A previously unknown actor who was currently playing the young Warden in his rise to power.  The most awkward son of a dick to come out of clan Lavellan since Kaaras Adaar himself. There were plenty of options, and none of them were particularly pleasant as he chewed them over, trying to pick the best one.

Cherche pushed him lightly on the head to make him stop thinking – her hand went through, as if she was tying to grab the thought. “You're worse than they were. Remi's clearly into you, you just don't see it.”

The wind was knocked from Merin's lungs as he sat there, numb. “This is a dream, so how can I believe that? My brain might just want to believe it...”

“Well, then it's clear you want him to want you. Might as well act on it and see where it gets you.” She shrugged. “Worst he could do is say no and then you have to pretend to have sex with him on the throne of Ferelden in a couple seasons.”

Gods, he was still hoping they weren't going to cover that part... it was hard enough covering up the tattoos on his face...

“That's easy for you to say, you're dead.” Merin sighed, running a hand over his hair as he did. “I just get so nervous when we're not talking about work. He's so... nice.”

His ghostly adopted ancestor nodded along. “Yes, he's nice. So if he doesn't feel that way, he'll let you down nicely. But he's totally into you, I've seen him checking you out in and out of costume. Ask him for coffee or something.”

Right... just ask the hottest guy in Orlais if he wanted to grab coffee some time. Like the fans wouldn't eat him alive.

“Rin-Rin, I don't hear confident thoughts coming out of you.”

And there was the nickname. Merin sighed again, feeling the heat from his cheeks slowly leak away. There was no way he was getting out of this without agreeing to her terms. So... he was setting himself up for disaster.

Maybe he could at least get experience for filming out of it.

“Alright, I'll... see if he's free when we're on set tomorrow.”

She gave him a little grin and patted him on the head. “There we go, you're much easier to work with then Eli.”

Then her hand went to the chain he wore around his neck. On it was an old ring, carved from halla antler. It had been passed down his family line for generations, going all the way back to his great-great something grandpa Kaaras. As oldest, he got first dibs.

As oldest, he also knew it came from the antler of the halla that had brought Cherche Mahariel to clan Sabrae as a child.

“This is Kaaras' wedding ring.” Her voice was soft. “Funny, you don't look like you have any qunari in you, Rin-Rin.”

This was where he smiled a little. “I don't have the horns, but I can wear vitaar without getting sick. Don't ask me how I found that one out, it's a long story.”

And then she chuckled softly as she let the ring fall back to his chest. “That's how I know they got the right guy for Cahel.”

She was starting to look less solid – maybe the dream was ending. “You better talk to him tomorrow, Rin-Rin, or I'm coming back.”

Merin was already settling back into bed, sleep starting to take him over. “I will... goodnight, Cherche. Pleasant travels wherever you're heading.”

Then she was gone, and he was left to his dreams. In the morning, he would have to psych himself up to speak to Remi about that coffee. No doubt it was going to come out terribly, but he didn't need the ghost of a Warden haunting him. So... do or die time.

Fuck... he so wasn't ready for this.

---

“Hey, we need to talk.”

Anyone interrupting her sleep was risking a knife in the gut.

Shianni cracked one eye open, glancing around the dark room. Next to her, Maria was still fast asleep. It hadn't been her voice anyway, the accent was all wrong. This one belonged to someone Dalish, but... nobody else was there.

Except the ghost standing at the foot of her bed. Maybe it came from her.

Cherche nodded to her. “So... this is weird.”

Yeah.” She nodded. “Got a final wish or something?”

The elf nodded as well – looks like she had the gestures down pat. Really, it was kind of eerie seeing her standing there. While it wasn't exact, they did look pretty damn similar. If not for her vallaslin being a different color, maybe they could've been twins.

Twins with a dead person – damn her dreams were weird.

Cherche was right down to business, as Shianni figured she would be. She crossed her arms over her chest, eyes burning. “Make sure they make me bisexual in this damn show.”

Shianni would have laughed if it wouldn't have risked waking up her wife. “Wait until Denerim, we're doing the Pearl.”

“Nice. Who'd they get for Isabela? She's gotta be hot as hell to make it work.”

This time, Shianni really did laugh. Luckily, it didn't wake up her hot as hell wife who was still fast asleep. Though, thinking about it, this was probably the Fade, so that most likely was just a projection of Maria sleeping next to her. The actual Maria was in he own dreams, unaware of what was going on over here.

Too bad, she would've enjoyed meeting Cherche.

“I'd introduce you to her, but she's sleeping.”

The elf at the foot of the bed looked Maria over, whistling. “Ok, they're doing a damn fine job of casting then. Lucky you, getting to have a scene with your wife.”

Yep, Shianni was still laughing at about that. Talk about luck.

“Well, you got it handled here.” She was already starting to fade. Looks like the mission was complete. “Keep an eye out on Rin-Rin tomorrow, he's going to be asking Remi out for coffee. I told Eli not to be a dick, but he probably won't listen.”

Shianni nodded as she settled back into bed, eyes heavy. “I'll handle him. Good on you for Rin-Rin, he needs to get that before somebody else does.”

“That's what I said.” Cherche nodded again, almost completely gone. “Good talking to you. Keep your aim steady.”

Good talk indeed – approval from the woman herself. Shianni was more than happy to settle in for some more sleep, plans already cooking in her head for tomorrow. She had coworkers to keep an eye out on, especially if Merin was making his move.

It was going to be busy on set for sure, and none of it was coming from the acting. Somebody was going to cause a storm on social media for sure...

[a-queer-seminarian]

a homily on worry

One of my classmates, Jenny H., preached her senior sermon on Matthew 6:25-34 -- the famous (or infamous) passage on not worrying. She talks about her wrestling with a text that says not to worry when there is so much in life to worry about! With her permission, I’m sharing the text of her short sermon below.

_______________________________

‘ And Jesus said, “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? And why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? Therefore do not worry, saying, ‘What will we eat?’ or ‘What will we drink?’ or ‘What will we wear?’ For it is the Gentiles who strive for all these things; and indeed your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. “So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today. ’

The Word of God for the people of God.   ___________________________________

By a show of hands…  Who has ever worried before?  Who has ever been worried and then shared that worry with someone, and that someone responds with something like: “it’ll be fine, don’t worry.”?  Who has wanted to slap that person because, that’s a ridiculous thing to say and in fact telling me not to worry makes me worry even more.   

I’m not saying I want to slap Jesus, but I’m just saying, at first glance, this passage makes me want to punch Jesus.

But I’ve learned a lot over the past three years, and I’ve certainly learned that no text should ever be taken at its first glance, so we’re gonna keep looking...   The truth is, we all know what it’s like to worry. And, the truth is, there is a lot in this world to worry about. We might be worried about how we are going to get all of our papers and presentations and finals done in a way that gets us the grade we hope to get. We might worry about what we are doing after graduation. Where will we work? Where will we live next? I think it would be fair to say that for many of us, those going into ministry and those going into therapy settings, our worry for the world weighs on us in a way that compels us into these positions, hoping that we can make a difference in a world that is wrought with troubles, concerns, and worries. Before coming to seminary I had some worries about my life and about the world. Now only a couple weeks from graduation, those worries are amplified with three years worth of readings and discussions that have affirmed the chaotic world that is filled with endless things to worry about. Thanks seminary… 

If I’m being honest, this text can feel really problematic at times. There is a lot to worry about and simply saying “don’t worry about food or clothes, God will provide” doesn’t work.

The months I was short on the LG&E bill, God did not come down and give me that extra 30 bucks I needed, I still had to work that extra shift to make that extra money. For those with families, with mouths to feed other than yourself, putting food on the table can be a real concern. When kids are growing faster than paychecks come in, it can be stressful and worrisome to figure out how to clothe them.

And then Jesus is like “see the birds, see the lilies, they are good, and you will be too.” And my gut reaction to that is: Jesus didn’t know about global warming. There are birds that do not fly easily, and there are plenty of lilies that will not come to their full beauty due to the horrors of our mistreatment of the environment.  

And yet, this is a popular text that brings comfort to many. My sister, who is consistently worrying about something or someone, often recites the last verse, “So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today.” And even if only for a moment, she feels a sigh of relief. And I don’t think she’s the only one that finds even small pieces of comfort in this text.  

The Greek root word, merin-nate, doesn’t only simply mean “worry.” It also is defined as “anxious” or “distracted.” Now, my marriage and family therapy friends would kill me if I got up here and didn’t name the fact that

anxiety disorders are real, and simply telling someone that they need more Jesus, or need more faith and then their anxieties and fears will be relieved, is just not true and is seriously lacking in pastoral care and just bad theology.

I don’t think this text is just telling us to not worry. If I spent the last three years “not worrying” and depending on God to take care of everything, I feel confident that all the papers and presentations I’ve turned in would not have actual grades, but just a big ZERO and I wouldn’t be two weeks away from graduation.  

I think where we might find some hope and encouragement in this text is if we thought about our worries as distractions.

When we are so focused on what might happen, what we need to do next, who we need to email, where we need to be, how we will get there, then we become so overwhelmed by our own thoughts, by own our actions, and by our own lives that we completely miss the ways in which God really is moving in and around us.

We miss the beauty of the lilies, we miss the seamlessness of how the birds fly so freely, we miss the very things and people that are right in front of our faces; the very things and people that God is calling us to be in communion with. We miss who we called to, the poor, the marginalized, the ones without. We miss how we might be able to be a sign of God’s unconditional love and care for all people.  

Mary Oliver has a short poem titled “Don’t Worry” and it goes like this:

Things take the time they take. Don’t worry. How many roads did Saint Augustine follow before he became Saint Augustine?”  

Friends, there are many roads ahead of us. There are many paths and journeys we will travel. And on those roads there will inevitably be many things to worry about. Let us do our best to not let those worries overwhelm us so much so that we are completely distracted and unaware of who and to whom God is calling us. There is work to be done, so let us do what we can to find rest in the knowledge that God is with us, cheering for us, praying for us, and desiring good for all of creation and we are called to participate in that work with God, with each other, and with this world that God so deeply loves. Amen.