Grit...

The last time around was the most arduous. Sweat poured off my forehead, little bits of dirt gathered in my mouth and bugs, too numerous to name, dive-bombed me on their way to a succulent flower feast in the distance. I had persisted in my quest of walking this parcel of land just south of Visalia not unlike Don Quixote, tilting at my own windmills as if they were armored foes to be vanquished. But the end would be very different from the beginning.

I had intended, today, literally this day, to pray at lunch, not eat. It was part of a missions fund raising event initiated by my youngest daughter who is collecting money for AIDS afflicted people in Africa. Great mission, one hungry guy, still I persisted. I had arrived at this particular plot of land, a piece that I wanted to some day own, simply to pray, asking God to one day allow me to own it. Not your standard residential lot, this is actually a full development in waiting, much like me...a development in waiting! So, being a walker, I decided to walk the periphery one time and pray over it. Sounds weird, I know, but it's my kind of weird, so I did it.

And walk I did. An unease set in as I started to "educate" heaven to my desire. A certain idea came to mind, my heart, my spirit..."walk around the property seven times" like the Children of Israel around Jericho. Aha, then it will "fall" to me and I will possess the land, thought I. He, he, he. But then...

I remembered my daughters mission, "skip a lunch, save a life," and I realized there were more important issues at stake, literally life changing opportunities.

Walking around this parcel of land is, well, not easy. Well over 100 acres, nothing but weeds and jack rabbits, this is not the most hospitable place to be at noon in the Central Valley of California. Indeed, 'twas 90 degrees by the time I started my journey. Each lap, at a good clip, took me 12-15 minutes. The longer I walked the longer it took. But I digress.

Within a few steps of my first lap the Lord impressed upon my heart to pray for one person on each lap, for the entire lap. I started with my youngest, the fund raiser, asking God to bless her efforts and desire to help people half a world away. Then a plan opened before me...on each lap I would pray earnestly for a different, yet significant person in my life. Simple, straightforward, and then, last lap, I could pray for the one thing I wanted to pray for, that the land would one day be mine.

The first two laps were quick, fun, filled with passionate prayer for the recipient. The third was good, too, but my gait slowed a bit, my mouth began to dry and I wondered why I volunteered for this in the first place. I had no water with me, but, aha, I remembered I had coffee in the truck. Cold coffee, which was fine, or wait, would it be cold? It was in my insulated Starbucks cup, so, well, no, probably warm even though hours old. Still, I drank it. Warm, but wet, the end of the third lap brought minor relief.

Lap. Pray. Lap. Pray. Lap. Pray.

Finally, the seventh lap. I started praying. Change. I couldn't pray the prayer I came to pray. I couldn't bring myself to ask for the land to become mine. Not that that would be wrong it just seemed, well, not quite right. There were so many other needs, so many people who needed so much more, so many ways that my needs had been met, while the needs of others had gone unmet.

Sweating, crunching grit between my pearly whites, sun burned, aching, thirsty, feet hurting from two hours of walking, I prayed down the home stretch. I prayed more and more. Not my will, Lord...

Whew, I need water, cold water.