David
Wednesday evenings are always the busiest.
By the time I pull into the gravel driveway, the sun is already beginning to sink behind the sharp, jagged silhouettes of the neighboring houses, painting the sky in soft, bleeding streaks of orange and deep lavender. It is a quiet, beautiful death of another day, but I am too weary to appreciate it.
For a few minutes, I simply stay inside the car.
The engine is cut.
The radio is silent.
I sit there in the dimming light, my hands resting heavily on the steering wheel, staring at the brick facade of my own house.
Some days, I am successful at leaving my worries on the other side of the parish doors. I can step out of my office, shed the burdens of my congregation, and drive home with a clear mind.
Today…
I bring the whole weight of t
