Monday Monday

“We meet every morning in the board room to pray. Every morning.” I comment to my friend.
“Does everyone pray?” she asks.
“Well, it’s not an ‘around the table, everyone takes their turn’ set up. My boss suggests two or three should pray, then he randomly asks someone to close. I sit in fear the entire time, hoping he won’t ask me.”
“Prepare a prayer in advance. Write it out. Memorize it.”
“I might have to do that. “Tho it seems kinda weird… preplanning a prayer. What’s that all about? Probably completely defeats the whole purpose.”

This morning, we had a full staff. Everyone was back from the seminar in Quebec. All the part timers were in. Plus there were a couple auditors on hand as well. As we meet for our prayer time, those who have been away excitedly share some highlights of their trip. People with positions of great responsibility share some prayer requests. I sit quietly in the corner spot, not catching it all. I’m still learning everyone’s names, trying to understand the ministries we are involved in and get the gist of the upcoming pressures and deadlines.
“OK. Let’s pray,” my boss says.
I bow my head and try to become invisible. “Dear God,” I pray silently. “Please, not me.”
“How about if a few of us pray…”
I’ve stopped breathing. “Please God. I don’t want to. I can’t pray in front of these people about things I don’t understand.”
“And then… Jane, will you close?”
I nod my head and worry I’m going to be sick.
Three very senior staff members pray eloquently and passionately while I am getting light headed and dizzy. Realizing my lungs are screaming for air, I take a deep breath and silently complain to God. “Why? Why can’t I just pray silently? This sucks.”
There is a lull.
Booming silence.
My turn.
Crap.

Cannot remember a thing I prayed about. I do know it was likely the quickest close on record.

At some point this week I’ll write out a lovely prayer then commit it to memory. I’ll be ready next time. Which, according to my calculations, shouldn’t be for at least a week, hopefully two.

I was glad to leave at 2:30. My very productive day included writing another letter and doing some foundation research. Oh yeah. Aren’t they glad they hired me?

Walking through the parking lot, I juggle my purse, keys and ‘homework’ bag, while looking for my truck. I cross the street and stand in the spot that I parked it at 9:00 am. It is gone.
Not there.
I am without transportation.
Stolen?
Towed?

Crap.

I hate Mondays.

Turns out I parked too close to the fire hydrant. And to retrieve my truck I had to make a quick trip to the bowels of hell and fork over 2 days wages.
I can’t begin to describe Surrey’s Tow Lot. The workers, the ‘guests’, the customers, the building, the yard, the smell. Oh my goodness, the smell.

I think I’ve spent the entire day outside of my comfort zone.
Does that seem fair to you?
I’d like to voice a formal complaint; “Please God. Can tomorrow be normal? Boring even? Thank you that my truck wasn’t stolen. Thank you that I didn’t puke when it was my turn to pray. Sorry I don’t like praying out loud. Is that important? Is it something I have to learn? Can I learn it later? Amen.”