the Watson to my Sherlock

I mean to start my day, everyday, with prayer.

But I get busy. I get distracted. There's breakfast to eat. Emails to return. Blogs to write. Wrinkles to iron out. I really dislike wrinkles.

So this morning, I awakened to a computer that did nothing but run that silly round "processing" icon over and over and over. It sucked me in like a trance. It wouldn't move. Wouldn't begin. Wouldn't cough and hack and kick itself into gear. It just processed and processed and processed, around, around, around.

The motion sickness forced my eyes away.

That's when I started praying. I prayed rather heavily. I found time to pray as I worked on getting my gimpy computer to awaken. I found time to pray while I typed out long emails on my blackberry. I found time to pray as I waited without patience for the dang screen to do something, anything but nothing.

I've had my computer for five years. It's a good little thing. A white thing. A shiny, hard plastic and some kind of filmy screen thing. It's been a good companion, the best of all the laptops I've owned coupled into one, since it's the only laptop I've ever owned. We've laughed and talked and stared at each other for hours. It's possibly the best dang relationship I've ever had.

And today it got a new life. A fresh start. It awakened, yawned, and, with heavy lids, asked me what all the fuss was about? I'd kiss it, except I won't. I'm rather particular about mixing my personal life with my professional one.

It shouldn't have taken the near loss of the only tool required for me to produce an income to scratch a morning prayer out of me. But it did. Are computer glitches really required before I notice my Creator is there and wouldn't mind a simple "Morning! Sure are glad to see you! Thanks for the sunshine and stuff."

Tomorrow, I think I'll fix God a cup of coffee. We can sit back, exhale and chat before the deadlines start tugging at my coattails.