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For those of you who know me well what I am about to write here is a logical extension of the road I have been walking for some time now. I have been unemployed now since last August 1st, effectively, though not at all by my choice or even primarily by my doing. In fact I have been expending no miniature effort in acquiring new employment; all to no avail. The very first job for which I interviewed last fall in the wake of the failure of my home building company, the one I prayed for and consciously asked God for, finally came through as a rejection-the boss wanted someone with more experience. It is a recognizable tune, is it not?

I had some great talks with my in-laws over this very subject while they were in town for a visit and for the birth of my youngest son. My father-in-law shared with me some wisdom and experience about taking advantage of the things God gives in their season, even if it seems to be nothing (or something with negative value such as being unemployed), because invariably we are prone to squandering everything and then living in regret. I have been praying for years that I could live my life with no regrets. At times I wonder if it is working.

Well, to cut to it, I took a trip to the store today by myself, leaving the family at home to nap. As I started the car I noticed the CD in the player was one Bethany Dillon, a little girl with a profound gift for singing and songwriting. On the disc is a song about a little girl's perspectives on love and be-knighted young men. The chorus abandons itself to these words:

"Gaze into my eyes/Let me know you'd fight thousands for my love/ Slip your hand in mine/ask me to dance with you tonight/ Just ask me for my love"

Writing the lyric apart from the music really is an act of cleaving meaning from feeling. They intertwine in amazing ways; that's often how one knows one is in the presence of true music.

At any rate, I played this song on my way to the store, and got through the first verse and chorus and most of the second verse before I found myself singing along with her. All at once the chorus was upon me and I was shouting it into the windshield, no longer singing along mindlessly but rather crying out to God himself.

Now I know it seems rather feminine, especially for a large man such as me. But go back and read those words again. Can you imagine asking the creator of the heavens to ravish you? On top of that is another layer not of lovers but of fathers and sons-my mission in these last few months

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